


Glare of the Sun

by EveryDarkCorner



Category: DCU
Genre: A/B/O social dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Pack Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDarkCorner/pseuds/EveryDarkCorner
Summary: Slade’s gaze travelled appraisingly down Dick’s body and back up.  ‘What would I want with some boy?’ he drawled, although his gaze remained hungry on Dick.Dick’s stomach twisted.  Suddenly, the brothel get-up was starting to make sense.--Beta Dick Grayson is sold to Slade in exchange for a bottle of Lazarus water.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 348
Kudos: 570





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The start of a new fic! Although if I'm honest ... I actually started writing this over a year ago, before _Feather and Arrow_ and even before _Blank White Spaces_. ^^; It's gone ignored, unfinished and unloved for too long. I'm so excited to finally start sharing it! <3

Dick was going to tear someone’s throat out.

Of course, he’d have to get out of the handcuffs first.

He stumbled on the lace-fine chains connecting his wrists to his ankles. Queen Bee’s dead-eyed omegas barely glanced up. They gripped his elbows and continued to drag him down the cool white corridor. Dick gave the chains another experimental tug. No good. The chains were tougher than they looked.

And so were the omegas—Queen Bee’s expressionless drones. Their quiet, placid faces turned Dick’s stomach. So different to Jason’s raucous laughter; Tim’s intense concentration. As if they weren’t really people.

Dick aimed a clumsy kick at the omega clutching his right arm. His bare foot struck the omega’s ankle, but the omega didn’t even stumble. Maybe after enough hits of Queen Bee’s alpha pheromones, you didn’t feel pain anymore.

Maybe if she gave Dick a strong enough dose, he wouldn’t feel it when she killed him.

A lump hit his stomach as the omegas turned, drawing him into Queen Bee’s throne room.

Dick straightened his back and faced the woman lounging in the throne. She looked up and smiled softly, her eyes dark and sharp. Behind her, sheer curtains rippled over the balcony. The hum of traffic and raised voices thrummed in Bialya City far below.

Dick held her gaze until his knees went watery, and stared at his feet, fighting the urge to sink to the floor. Queen Bee’s control was toxic.

‘My, my, Nightwing,’ Queen Bee purred. ‘Aren’t you a picture?’

‘Go to hell.’

She sighed. ‘A shame we can’t dress up your manners as well as the rest of you.’

Queen Bee’s gaze flicked down his body and back up, resting briefly on the blue lines creeping over Dick’s shoulders—his pack markings. He tried to fold his arms, a feeble attempt to cover the sheer harem pants, the loose vest. But the gold chains rattled, catching on his wrists.

Dick’s face heated. He looked like he belonged in a brothel.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling that Queen Bee wouldn’t get him dressed up like this just to kill him.

Another omega scuttled across the room, leaning over the throne to whisper in Queen Bee’s ear. She nodded, waving him away, and gave Dick a sharp look. ‘Stand against the wall and stay quiet.’

It felt like swallowing a rock. Each word landed hard in his stomach. Dick resisted. His muscles ached and trembled. Sweat trickled down his neck.

And then he moved, feet propelling him across the floor on automatic. His throat locked. He ground his teeth. There was no point even trying to talk.

Damn Queen Bee and her damn alpha control.

He stood with his back to the wall, twisting the loose chains in his fingers. They were annoying, but they were also a weapon. He just needed to get it around her throat.

Queen Bee would regret taking him hostage.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway beyond the throne room. Boots. Not one of Queen Bee’s barefoot omegas, or the flapping sandals of her favourite betas. Queen Bee smoothed her skirts and patted her hair, then settled back and lifted her chin. She crossed her ankles. Uncrossed them. Picked at her sleeve.

Dick frowned.

Was she … nervous?

The footsteps grew closer—definitely boots—and the paces were long and even. Like an alpha. Whoever it was didn’t feel the need to hurry like Queen Bee’s scurrying drones. Dick lifted his chin. _Bruce!_

Then he remembered the scream, and the blood spilling over his hands.

His chest seemed to cave in around his heart. He sagged back against the wall.

_Gone._

Bruce was gone. The whole pack with him, for all Dick knew.

Every time he remembered, it hurt just the same as that day, when he watched Bruce fall.

A figure stepped through the door, and Dick forced himself to look up.

He was tall—probably even taller than Bruce, and just as muscular. His white hair was pushed back, a black eyepatch stark on his weathered face, and Dick couldn’t see any pack markings on him. Maybe they were covered by the close-trimmed beard? Or, more likely, under his khaki travelling clothes.

The visitor inclined his head. ‘Queen Bee.’

She smiled, and Dick almost buckled. She was laying the alpha aura on thick, projecting it through the room. The waves of power rolling off her hit Dick like blasts of hot air.

‘Slade Wilson,’ she said warmly. ‘Or do you prefer …’

‘Slade is fine.’

The visitor seemed unaffected by Queen Bee’s power. A fellow alpha, then. One Queen Bee was trying to intimidate. He didn’t rise to her game; Dick didn’t sense any aura off him, either because he wasn’t as strong as Queen Bee, or he was confident enough without it. Then again, Dick wouldn’t get as strong a sense of him. _He_ wasn’t Dick’s alpha.

Dick shuddered, and resisted the urge to touch the white scar at his throat. Queen Bee’s claim on him.

Queen Bee’s smile flickered. ‘Do you have it?’

Slade reached into a pocket and drew out a glass vial. Liquid swirled inside it, sharp green. ‘Do you have the money?’

‘Ten thousand.’ Queen Bee sat back, her eyes fixed on the vial. ‘And a gift.’

Slade closed his fist around the vial. ‘No deal. We agreed on twenty.’

‘Wait until you’ve seen the gift.’ Arching an eyebrow, Queen Bee waved at Dick. ‘Nightwing. Here.’

The command from his alpha hit him full in the chest. Dick grunted and staggered over stopping at the foot of the throne.

Slade’s gaze travelled appraisingly down Dick’s body and back up

Dick’s stomach twisted. Suddenly, the brothel get-up was starting to make sense.

‘What would I want with some boy?’ Slade drawled, although his gaze remained hungry on Dick.

‘Nightwing, turn around,’ Queen Bee said, each word landing heavy as a lead weight. ‘Show Slade your pack marks.’

Heat flooded over Dick’s skin, but he barely managed to resist for a second before inevitably turning. He glared at Queen Bee’s gold sandals, Slade’s stare burning on his back. On the blue wings stretching from Dick’s spine up over his shoulders, the feathers wrapping around his biceps. The loose, sheer vest didn’t cover much.

The markings had appeared the day Bruce made Dick his beta. The proudest day of Dick’s life.

Unable to resist, Dick glanced over his shoulder. Slade’s gaze slid up his body, and stopped on the white scars at the back of Dick’s neck. Dick shuddered, his skin crawling, and turned away.

Bruce’s bite. He only did it once, to secure Dick’s pack status, and afterwards and he gave Dick a cold towel and aspirin to help with the pain. Dick wondered if it was even visible anymore, under the bruises from Queen Bee’s bite, layered on top. She did it fast, her omegas holding Dick down until the instincts kicked in and he finally stopped thrashing and went limp.

Slade remained silent. Dick shivered despite the dry heat in Queen Bee’s palace. Was Slade still staring? Was he imagining covering Queen Bee’s still-raw bite with a fresh one of his own?

Finally, Queen Bee murmured, ‘Nightwing here used to belong to the Bat.’

Dick bristled, his throat tightening automatically to choke out the cry of indignation. He still hadn’t been given permission to talk.

‘I fail to see how even one of the Bat’s boys is worth a vial of Lazarus water.’

Dick looked up sharply. Queen Bee ignored him, meeting Slade’s eye over Dick’s shoulder. Lazarus water? _That_ was what was in the vial?

He closed his fists. He’d heard the stories. With Lazarus water …

_I could bring Bruce back._

‘He’s worth ten thousand,’ Queen Bee said firmly. ‘If not more. Everyone knows the Bat was a thorn in your side.’

Dick didn’t bother concealing his smirk. Yeah, Bruce pissed off a lot of people.

‘I never met the Bat,’ Slade said. ‘No deal.’

‘Fine.’ Queen Bee shrugged. ‘Just the ten thousand then.’

‘Twenty thousand.’

‘Ten thousand.’ Queen Bee narrowed her eyes. ‘And you get to keep your head.’

Unable to move his feet, Dick glanced over his shoulder. Behind Slade, the doorway filled with Queen Bee’s betas. Bulky ones, with her honeycomb pack markings stretching down their throats.

Slade didn’t look round, but his expression tightened. ‘Ten thousand, then.’ His eye flicked to Dick. ‘And the boy.’

A broad, satisfied smile spread over Queen Bee’s face. ‘Excellent.’ She gestured at the betas and they slipped away, allowing a smaller omega to step through their ranks with a brown leather case.

Taking the case, Slade clicked it open and glanced inside before closing it with a snap.

‘Nightwing.’ Queen Bee’s voice went down Dick’s spine like an iron bolt. ‘You’re no longer mine. You belong to Slade now.’

Dick ground his teeth as his pack sigils warmed, reacting to the order. But it meant next to nothing. Until Slade covered Queen Bee’s bite with his own, the verbal transfer of ownership was little more than a formality.

However … it gave him just a touch of freedom.

Just enough.

He curled his fingers around the chain dangling from his wrists, and lunged.

With the shackles on his feet, he couldn’t run up to the throne like he wanted, but with quick, small steps he lurched close enough to swing the chain up and round, the links rattling as they whipped towards Queen Bee’s shocked face—

Then snapped taut. A sharp tug from behind, and Dick went over sideways, gasping. His elbow cracked on the marble and he yelped, crackles of pain arcing up through the bone. With a snarl he tucked his legs under him, ready to fight whichever beta grabbed his chain. He looked up, teeth gritted.

Slade held the other end.

‘Go on, try it.’ He murmured. ‘I dare you.’

Dick narrowed his eyes. Between a long, miserable life as some unknown alpha’s fucktoy, or dying quick and easy now, he knew what he preferred.

He coiled, and sprang.

Slade side-stepped, quicker and lighter on his feet than Dick expected. With another sharp tug on the chain, he yanked Dick closer, and Dick couldn’t even choke a breath before Slade’s foot snapped up and slammed into the side of his head.

He hit the marble. Voices blurred around him. For some reason, the back of his head hurt worse than the side where Slade kicked him. Dick opened his mouth to groan, but no sound came out. He tried to drag himself up, but the moment he moved, blood pounded in his skull and pain crackled down the back of his neck.

He blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

The world rolled and spun. Dick groaned.

Slade’s footsteps went through his skull like drums.

He swallowed, his mouth dry, his stomach turning. Hard arms locked around his body. Someone— _Slade_ —hoisted him up, and Dick tried to push him off but his limbs were kitten-weak.

He held his breath, waiting for the clamp of teeth around his throat. For the sharp, hot pain; the itchy prickle of blood; the sudden snap down his spine as he bonded into a new pack.

Light blazed through his closed eyes. He winced and blinked. Slade hadn’t bitten him. He’d carried Dick out the palace into the sun. Slade shifted Dick’s weight in his arms, and something clicked and then Dick was lowered into the shade. Slade’s arms slid away and Dick sank onto a cool, hard floor. He cradled his pounding head, burying his face in the crook of his elbows.

An engine growled. The floor shuddered, and Dick’s chains rattled.

He closed his eyes tighter, and just tried to breathe, and breathe, and breathe.

Inch by inch, the thudding in his head dulled to a low, warm pain. Opening his eyes, Dick sat up gingerly. He was curled in the trailer of a Jeep. A tarp roof flapped overhead, and crates rattled around him, along with spare tyres and cans of fuel.

The Jeep bounced over a bump and the pain in Dick’s head flared. His stomach tightened. He retched, pressing a hand to his mouth.

‘You’d better not throw up back there.’

Dick waited until the nausea subsided, then lifted his head and glared. Slade’s single eye stared back in the rear-view mirror. The trailer wasn’t separated from the rest of the car; the two seats simply opened into the space in the back. Dick could easily lean over and land a punch.

If only he wasn’t about to vomit. Or pass out. Or both.

He sank back against a crate. The chains tangled around his feet and he kicked out, flicking them loose. Of course Slade hadn’t unchained him. He probably liked the look. Dick shuddered.

But then he touched his throat. Queen Bee’s bite was still there, still sore.

But Slade … Slade hadn’t …

‘You didn’t bite me,’ he said hoarsely.

Up in the driver’s seat, Slade shrugged.

He hadn’t fastened Dick’s chains to anything, either. Dick stared out the back of the Jeep, his head spinning. There was no door. Just a low trailer wall, letting dry desert air breeze through the car. Outside, a white road snaked its way back to Bialya City.

Dick shifted, glancing back at Slade. Did Slade just think he wouldn’t dare … ?

‘If you’re thinking of jumping out the back, you should know it’s a hundred degrees out there with no shade or water for fifty miles,’ Slade said. ‘If you make it that far, Queen Bee’s people will catch you and drag you back to the palace. So unless you want to go back …’

Dick scowled. Being stuck in that tiny cell of a room in Queen Bee’s palace was probably better than being whored out to this bastard alpha. So was dying in the desert. Probably.

‘There’s a canteen of water back there for you,’ Slade said.

Dick’s throat felt like sandpaper. He felt between the crates and dug out the canteen. He cracked it open, sniffed cautiously, and swigged. The water was cold and metallic, cooling down his throat.

‘Small sips,’ Slade warned, ‘or you _will_ throw up.’

Dick was tempted to vomit just to spite him.

‘What’s your name?’ Slade said.

‘Nightwing.’ Dick’s voice cracked around the word.

Slade huffed. ‘Not your pack name. Your real name. What did your parents call you?’

Dick stared at Slade’s reflection in the rear-view mirror, startled. No one outside of Bruce’s pack ever used his real name. Not since he was a kid. Not since Bruce bit him, and the blue feathers of his pack markings flowed across his back.

Slade didn’t sound like a pack name, so he guessed Slade didn’t have a pack. A lone wolf alpha. Dick tried not to groan.

Slade glanced up in the mirror, and Dick looked away.

‘Dick.’

Slade snorted with laughter.

Dick bristled. ‘Richard. It’s short for Richard.’

Slade shook his head, although whether it was apologetic or disbelieving, Dick couldn’t tell. ‘Come sit up front if you want, Dick.’ He lifted a hand off the wheel and patted the seat beside him. ‘It’s better than the trailer.’

Hairs prickled on the back of Dick’s neck. Just because Slade hadn’t bitten him _yet_ didn’t mean he wouldn’t. And like hell was Dick getting close enough to make it easy for him.

‘Where are you taking me?’ Dick hedged.

‘Wherever I can squeeze ten thousand out of you,’ Slade’s eye glittered in the rear-view mirror, ‘I might just take you straight to downtown Abu Zuhur. A lot of good brothels would pay a fortune for a boy dressed like you.’

Dick’s face burned. He crossed his arms over his body. ‘Fuck you!’

He tensed, waited for Slade to slam on the brakes, haul him over the seat and tear into his throat.

But Slade just laughed, and kept driving. ‘Relax, kid. I’m not going to sell you to a brothel.’

He didn’t reinstate his offer to sit up front, and Dick didn’t ask. He settled down between the crates, cupping his canteen of water in his hands, and watched the road wind away behind them.

* * *

The sky was bruise-purple when Slade parked up at the side of the road.

‘Call of nature,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’

He got out the car, and Dick listened to his footsteps recede for several seconds.

Then he scrambled into the front.

His chains clinked and rattled, threatening to tangle his arms and legs. He shook them away with a grunt. Outside, Slade strode up a slope of golden rocks and vanished out of sight.

Dick reached for the ignition.

No keys. Of course. Slade wasn’t an idiot.

No problem. Jason taught Dick how to hotwire a car years ago in Bruce’s Mercedes. Well, actually, Jason was teaching _Damian_ , and Dick caught them in the act and gave both of them well-deserved arse-kicking for fucking around with Bruce’s second favourite car. But Dick had heard a lot of the conversation, and he remembered most of it.

God, he missed Jason. And Damian. Brats, the both of them.

_Please be alive._

Dick’s throat tightened. He’d find them again. He would. Somehow.

But first …

He groped under the wheel, wriggled his fingers under the plastic casing, and wrenched it off. No screwdrivers. No time to be delicate. The plastic cracked and he tossed it aside. He held his breath, glancing out the window. No sign of Slade.

Ducking under the dashboard, he found the right wires, tweaked one here, ripped out another, pressed two of them together, and …

A spark, and the car rumbled to life.

‘Yes!’

He didn’t look back. He slammed his bare foot on the gas, and the Jeep roared forwards. It bounced on the sand, wheels spinning and slipping, kicking up clouds behind it. Dick wrenched the wheel, turning the Jeep back towards Bialya.

Queen Bee had the Lazarus water.

_Bruce._

Dick could still save him.

_A frigid room in Nanda Parbat; the swing of Ra’s’s sword; the way Bruce’s snarl cut out so suddenly as he hit the floor. Blood pooling across the flagstones. Dick screaming at the others to run,_ run _, even though he couldn’t move himself, couldn’t bring himself to step away from his alpha—_

Dick took a shuddering breath. He could change it. Reverse it.

He just needed that Lazarus water.

‘Are you going to tell me where you’re taking us?’

‘What the _fuck_!’ Dick slammed on the breaks and the Jeep screeched as the wheels locked in the sand.

Dick spun in his seat and cold raced down his spine.

Slade.

He crouched in the back, elbows crossed casually over the passenger-side headrest. ‘Well, Dick? Do you have an explanation?’ His smirk fell, and behind it Dick could see a storm about to break. ‘Or were you really going to leave me to die in the desert and run back to Queen Bee?’

Dick stared, heart galloping, mouth dry. He drew breath.

Slade lunged.

He grabbed Dick by the wrist, and in a sharp motion yanked him between the two seats. Dick yelped, braced his feet on the seats, and tried to pull away. But Slade tugged him closer and Dick stumbled—and Slade grabbed the short hairs at the back of his neck.

Dick went rigid. His nerves screamed as Slade pulled his hair, forcing Dick to lift his chin and bare his throat. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the back of the Jeep, and Dick’s legs were shaking, and Slade’s voice was very close to his ear.

‘I wasn’t going to bite you, because I have no intention of keeping you. But if you can’t _behave_ yourself …’

Palms slick with sweat, Dick reached up and tried to prise Slade’s hand off, but his fingers were weak, instincts searing at the distinctly alpha touch. Slade’s knuckles grazed the edge of Queen Bee’s bite and Dick had to grit his teeth to keep back a whimper.

Slade tightened his hold on Dick’s arm. ‘ _Down_.’

_No. No, no, no._

But Dick’s legs were already shaking, and his legs buckled as Slade dragged him down. He thrashed, trying to break free, nature and Slade’s stronger form working against him. Slade pushed him to his knees, then all fours, then flat on his stomach.

‘No,’ Dick gasped, fingers clawing at the floor of the trailer. Slade—please—’

He felt Slade’s weight settle on the small of his back.

His voice went hoarse. ‘Slade!’

Slade’s teeth closed on his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention it for the last couple of chapters, but this fic was inspired by [this beautiful artwork](https://axeeeee.tumblr.com/post/126901764320) by axeeeee. :3

Dick’s world shrank to a sharp, red haze of pain.

He flailed, but Slade slid his hands down Dick’s arms to pin his wrists. Grinding his teeth, Dick shuddered, tears of panic and humiliation sticky on his face. He strained and kicked, because _no, not again, not for anyone but Bruce_. Slade’s teeth sank deeper, pressing into the pain from Queen Bee’s bite, and it was like sparks sputtering the first few times you tried to strike a match. Sparks that said flames were coming.

Dick went limp. Waited. Waited for the cord to snap into place, to lock him into a new pack. Slade’s pack.

Just as the heat built in Dick’s lower belly and the first shivers crept over his skin … Slade loosened his grip.

Dick lay still, breathing hard.

_What?_

Slade’s weight lifted off Dick’s back. was half a second before Dick’s brain overrode the beta instinct, and he scrabbled away. When he hit the side of the trailer, he spun to face Slade. Dick gasped, hands shaking, too weak and shocked to even think of striking.

Slade wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. No blood. He hadn’t bitten hard enough.

He hadn’t done it.

‘That was a warning,’ Slade growled. ‘You run off into the desert and starve for all I care. But you try and kill me again …’

‘I wasn’t—’ Dick croaked.

Slade cut him off with a snarl, low and soft, but still enough to send tremors racing up Dick’s spine. For a moment longer, he stared, single eye blazing. Then finally, he huffed and stepped back. ‘Get in the front.’

Dick scrambled across the trailer and into the driver’s seat, eager to put distance between him and Slade.

_A warning._

Dick reeled. Why would Slade give him a warning?

Even if Slade didn’t intend to keep him, surely most alphas would bite just to make sure. Better to have an obedient little beta sitting next to than a belligerent hostage.

Slade’s footsteps thudded on the trailer. ‘Passenger side, idiot.’

Dick clambered to the passenger side, and flattened his back against the door as Slade climbed into the driver’s seat. His hands trembled with the urge to swing a punch. But his throat still prickled from the pressure of Slade’s teeth.

Drawing a key from his pocket, Slade leaned over. As Dick shrank away, he snatched the chains dangling from Dick’s wrists. He tugged Dick’s arm closer, undid the cuff, and snapped it closed around his own wrist. He stuffed the key back in his pocket and sat back.

The chain was long enough that they could sit side-by-side without it snapping taut. But Dick wouldn’t get further than a few feet.

‘Glad I got to piss already,’ Slade grunted. ‘Hope you don’t need to go.’

Dick didn’t respond.

Glancing under the dashboard, Slade rolled his eye before reconnecting the wires that’d fallen apart as he dragged Dick into the trailer. The engine rumbled. ‘You’d better know how to fix that.’

Dick summoned a last scrap of defiance. ‘No idea.’

Slade snorted, but didn’t retaliate.

Shrinking back in his seat, Dick eyed Slade as he drove. He couldn’t sense any alpha aura radiating from him. When Bruce was angry, his aura used to fill the room, thickening the air and filling Dick’s nose with a heavy, musky scent. Did Slade really have that much self-control, to have reigned it in already?

And why didn’t he just _bite Dick_ and get it over with?

‘Why were you going back to Queen Bee?’ Slade said. The chain jingled as he changed gears between them.

Dick said nothing.

‘It’s going to be a long journey. You might as well talk.’

Dick scowled, and ignored him.

Until Slade lifted his arm off the gearstick.

A jolt of adrenaline went down Dick’s spine, and he jerked away—only for Slade to settle his hand on the bottom of the wheel, giving Dick a brief frown. ‘I don’t intend to hurt you.’ He tilted his head. ‘Unless you attack me first.’

Dick stared. That was … true. Slade hadn’t hurt him once so far, until Dick attacked him. First the fight in the throne room, where Slade had tugged Dick away from Queen Bee but hadn’t actually struck him until Dick sprang. And now, he’d only _half_ bitten Dick after Dick tried to abandon him in the desert.

Slade, it seemed, was an absolute bastard. But only when provoked.

‘Lazarus water,’ Dick admitted finally, because fuck it. He was already chained up, throat stinging, nowhere to go. Nothing to do but try and negotiate with the bastard he’d already thoroughly pissed off. ‘I wanted the Lazarus water.’

Slade frowned, then lifted his chin as understanding dawned. ‘Your alpha. The Bat.’

Dick turned to look out the window. ‘Yeah.’ He didn’t blink. His eyes burned.

‘You’re an idiot,’ Slade sighed. ‘You’d never have got the Lazarus water from Queen Bee.’

Dick shrugged. His throat was tight, his tongue swollen in his mouth. ‘I’d have found a way.’

The rest of Bruce’s pack might still be out there. Scattered. Lost. And maybe Queen Bee had tried to override his loyalty with her bite, but as far as Dick was concerned the painted wings stretched across his back still meant something.

‘You wouldn’t,’ Slade said. ‘Queen Bee doesn’t have any Lazarus water.’

Dick jolted upright. ‘What? But you—’

‘Coloured water.’ Slade snorted. ‘You think I’d give Queen Bee something that precious for half the price and pain the ass beta?’ He dug in his breast pocket and drew out another tiny vial. Like the last one, green liquid swirled inside. But this, Dick could see, was brighter. It glowed, sending streaks of yellow-green light dancing off Slade’s fingers and reflecting on his face. Slade tucked it back in his breast pocket. ‘Always have a contingency, kid. And never show all your cards.’

Dick blinked. ‘You’re giving me advice now?’

‘If your half-assed attempt to steal my car is any indication, you need it.’

Dick scoffed. So now his carjacking was half-assed, huh? But at least Slade seemed to have genuinely cooled off.

Dick rubbed his throat, his hands still clammy. ‘How long until Queen Bee realises?’

Slade shrugged. ‘Whenever she tries to use the stuff. Could be years. But I don’t want to be anywhere near her when she does.’

Slade turned on the radio, flicked through the channels until he found an Arabic singer Damian always used to listen to back home. The tune was familiar, even if Dick had never understood the words. Dick curled his bare feet up on the seat, closed his eyes, and tried to imagine he was back in Gotham. Damian playing his music. Tim gulping down his fourth coffee. Jason singing along, out of tune and nonsensical, dodging Damian when he swatted at him. Selina sighing, calling out, ‘Boys, play nicely!’

And Bruce. Bruce, smiling, and warm, and alive.

‘You belong to anyone, kid?’ Slade said, cutting through the music.

Dick blinked. His head had sunk against the car window, and he lifted it. ‘Hm?’

‘You got a family? A pack?’ Slade glanced sideways at him. ‘A mate?’

Something about his look sent heat flooding into Dick’s face. ‘No.’ He hesitated. ‘Not a mate. And my parents died a long time ago. My pack …’ He curled his legs in closer to his chest, hugging his shins. His chains rattled. The one attached to Slade’s wrist tightened, but Slade didn’t complain. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. We have a safehouse in Bialya; I was heading for it when Queen Bee caught me. I hoped I’d find them there, but I haven’t heard from them since …’

Slade nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ He drew a long breath. ‘Here’s a deal for you, kid. Don’t try to kill me again, and I’ll try and get you back to your pack in one piece.’

Dick straightened. ‘What—’

Slade held up a finger. ‘ _Try._ And I’ll want compensation. I only got half off Queen Bee, remember.’ He smirked. ‘I still want to make a profit off you.’

Dick stared, wide-eyed, searching for any trace of a lie in Slade’s expression. He couldn’t find any. ‘You’re going to ransom me back to my pack?’

Slade shrugged. ‘There’s always that brothel in Abu Zuhur, if you prefer.’

‘We have money.’ Dick’s voice came out dry, crackling like autumn leaves. At least, they had money assuming Selina and the others had made it back to Gotham, and Bruce’s Will had been carried out. ‘If that’s all you want.’

‘Money, and a ticket out of this place,’ Slade grunted, as much to himself, it seemed, as to Dick.

Dick’s gaze flicked down to Slade’s breast pocket. To the Lazarus water, so much closer than he’d even thought. _Bruce._

He lowered his feet from the seat, sitting up straight. ‘I want the Lazarus water.’

Slade arched an eyebrow.

‘If it can save Bruce. It can, can’t it? Even just that much?’

‘You’d need his body,’ Slade said. ‘And you’d have to tip it down his throat.’

‘So it can?’

Slade inclined his head. ‘It’ll cost you.’

‘We have money.’ Dick said it with more certainty this time. Money was _nothing_. Not compared to having Bruce back. He’d sell the whole Wayne estate if he had to, and the others wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

Slade grinned. ‘That’s what I like to hear.’


	4. Chapter 4

Slade next pulled up hours later, when the desert had faded to blue and white under a star-scattered sky. He clambered into the trailer, grumbling as the chain connecting his wrist to Dick’s snapped taut.

He returned with nutrition bars in silver packets, and fresh canteens of water. Dick wolfed the meagre feast down. One truly mortifying bathroom break later—Slade at least had the decency to look away, although he refused to unchain Dick after his grand theft auto stunt—Dick was curled back in the passenger seat, drifting in and out of fitful sleep.

Slade either slept like the dead, or did a good impression of it. Dick watched him between his own catnaps. His single eye remained closed, and in the dark Dick imagined he could see his iris flicking from side-to-side as Slade dreamed. Otherwise, he didn’t move at all. Didn’t turn over or snuffle or snore. He was rigid as a corpse.

Dick was asleep whenever Slade did wake up, because one moment he was watching Slade, trying to detect if he was even breathing, and the next the sun was blazing up ahead of them, and the Jeep was roaring down the road.

Dick rubbed his eyes and swallowed. His mouth felt furry and sticky. What he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush. He considered asking, but when he looked up, Slade’s jaw was clenched, his hands tight on the steering wheel.

Asking what was wrong felt like a great way to get his head bitten off. Instead, Dick looked around, searching for something that could’ve pissed Slade off again. The road was clear up ahead. They still had all their supplies in the trailer. And behind them—

Dick’s heart skipped.

A silver car, kicking up dust far behind them.

‘Queen Bee?’ he croaked.

‘Most likely.’

Dick chewed his lip. ‘It could be nobody.’

‘Could be.’

‘And it’s just the one of them.’

‘It is.’ Slade shifted. 

Dick drew a long breath. ‘Pull over and unchain me.’

Slade gave him a disparaging look.

‘I’m serious!’ Dick tugged the chain dangling from his neck. ‘My pack used to fight together all the time. I’m good.’ He hesitated. ‘When I’m not chained up.’

Slade didn’t say anything for a long time.

‘And,’ Dick added, ‘I’m not going anywhere as long as you have the Lazarus water.’

The tiniest trace of a smirk twitched Slade’s mouth. He glanced sideways at Dick. ‘You used to fight with the Bat?’

Dick nodded. ‘All the time.’

Slade let out a heavy sigh. ‘You’d better hope you haven’t lost your edge.’

He swerved off the road and stopped, letting the engine idle. Digging the key out his pocket, Slade unlocked the cuff around his own wrist before handing the key to Dick. Trying not to grin too gleefully, Dick freed his wrist, his feet, and then reached up for the lock at the back of his neck. The key scraped around the keyhole, failing to slip in. Dick grunted, bowing his head down further.

‘Here.’

Warm, dry fingers brushed his hand, and Slade plucked the key from Dick. Dick shivered as the edge of Slade’s hand traced Queen Bee’s bite, but he didn’t put any pressure on it, and a moment later the collar clicked and dropped into Dick’s lap.

Dick swallowed. ‘Thanks.’

He weighed the chains in his hands. They were pretty heavy.

He tightened his grip.

As he sat up, the silver car drew level.

Slade opened the door on his side. ‘Stay here until you have to get out.’

Dick ground his teeth, but stayed put as Slade stepped out the car. If he could prove he wasn’t about to piss Slade off again, maybe Slade wouldn’t chain him back up.

As Slade approached, the silver car’s darkened window rolled down.

‘Do you have a flat?’

Dick frowned. That accent sounded … wrong. After weeks surrounded by Bialyan voices, this stuck out. Yet it was familiar.

‘No, just a carsick beta.’ Slade sounded utterly unconcerned, if not a little apologetic. ‘We’re fine.’

‘The suspension in those cars is terrible. No wonder your beta is sick. You’d better come with us.’

Slade shook his head. ‘Really, it’s fine. He just needs a minute.’

‘I think you misheard.’ The door opened, and a dark-haired beta stepped out. ‘You’re coming with us.’

Dick’s heart lodged in his throat. He didn’t know the man, but he did know those dark, silky robes. And now that accent fell into place. The same accent he’d head right before Bruce was murdered.

They weren’t Queen Bee’s people after all.

They were Ra’s al Ghul’s.

Dick’s mouth went dry. Why? Why would Ra’s al Ghul’s people have followed him—?

Slade jerked back, and a pit opened in Dick’s stomach as he realised: they weren’t here for him. Slade had Lazarus water. Slade had _stolen_ Lazarus water.

They were here for Slade.

A blade glinted in the beta’s hand. Blood thrummed in Dick’s ears. The last time he saw those black robes …

Nanda Parbat.

_Bruce._

Dick lunged across the car, leaped out Slade’s door and swung the chains up into the beta’s face. The flailing cuffs cracked the beta under the chin, and he fell back with a cry. Before he could find his balance, Dick swept in and snapped his leg up for a kidney shot. The beta snarled and twisted out of Dick’s reach. Metal flashed as the beta slashed upward with his blade, but Dick darted back—just as Slade barrelled in from the side.

He knocked the beta’s blade away, first with his fist, and then with a kick that sent the weapon spinning into the air. Slade rammed his shoulder into the beta’s chest, and the beta went down the same time as his blade thudded into the sand. He stirred, but Slade’s boot hit his temple with a sickening crack, and the beta slumped. He didn’t move again.

Another beta was already out of the silver car, standing on the other side, using the door as a shield. He seemed to be the only other one present. Slade stooped and snatched up the blade. Dick leapt into the air, landing light on the silver car’s roof, whirling the chains over his head.

Damn, it felt good to be fighting again.

The beta staggered back, glancing between Slade and Dick, weighing them up. Then he sprang up to meet Dick on the roof.

Dick grinned. Bad choice.

He whirled the chains out in a wide arc. The beta ducked his first swing, then lunged before Dick could whip round for a second time. The beta’s heel slammed into Dick’s sternum

Dick yelped and staggered back, the chains slipping from his grip and landing with a thump in the sand. He bent double, gasping, the air driven out of his lungs. As the beta swung a punch, Dick backed up, then yelped as his foot fell on empty air at the front of the car. He slipped down the windscreen on his toes, arms flailing. The beta lashed out with another kick. Dick side-stepped over the hood and the beta overreached and tumbled off the car into the sand.

Where Slade was waiting.

The beta rolled, shot to his feet, and dodged the sweep of Slade’s stolen knife. Slade followed, moving fast, but the beta easily dodged his next two strikes. He seemed to know he couldn’t match Slade in sheer strength, so he was trying to outrun him.

Dick jumped down from the car, one hand pressed to his aching chest. He scooped up his dropped chains, and hurled them at the beta’s ankles.

The beta glanced at Dick a moment too late. The chains hit his feet, winding haphazardly around his calves. One of the cuffs smashed into his shin with a gut-wrenching crack. The beta dropped in the sand with a shriek.

Slade flipped the knife over in his hand, and cracked the handle into the beta’s skull.

The beta slumped.

Dick waited a moment, gasping for air, watching the two downed betas. Neither of them moved. Finally, Dick straightened. Pain lanced through his chest and he winced. ‘You just love going for the headshot, huh?’

‘It works.’ Slade flipped the knife in his hand, then tucked it in his belt. He nodded at the chains still tangled around the beta’s legs. ‘Good move.’

‘Thanks.’ Dick gave Slade a weak smile.

Slade returned it. Then he bent, unwinding the chains from around the beta’s legs. Dick sagged. Well, he supposed he should’ve expected that. Too much to hope Slade would leave the chains here.

Throwing the chains over his shoulder, Slade stalked to his car. ‘Let’s go.’

‘What about them?’ Dick nodded at the betas, both unconscious in the sand.

Slade glared. ‘What about them?’

‘If we leave them here, they’ll die.’

Slade raised his eyebrows. ‘You almost left me to die in the desert.’

Dick ground his teeth. ‘I’d have sent someone back for you.’ He hesitated as Slade’s eyebrows went a touch higher, then shrugged. ‘Probably. Eventually.’

‘I’m touched.’ Slade smirked. ‘But these two have a tracker in their car. Someone will come for them soon.’

He nodded at the car. Through the window, Dick recognised the high-tech electronic map in the dashboard … and the blinking red alarm light.

‘Shit.’

Slade turned, marching back for the Jeep. ‘Move.’

Dick scrambled into the passenger side. Slade dropped into the driver’s side next to him, then slid the chains off his shoulder. Dick ground his teeth. But what did he expect?

Slade bundled the chains into a ball, and tossed them in the back of the Jeep. They landed with a rattling bang on the trailer floor. Then, without even a glance at Dick, he reached under the wheel, twisted the wires under the dashboard together to start the Jeep, and drove off.


	5. Chapter 5

Pain shot through Dick’s chest every time he took a breath.

He slouched in the passenger seat, adrenaline eking from his body, one hand pressed up under his sternum. His ridiculous transparent harem pants stuck to his sweaty legs.

Slade glanced over. ‘That hurt?’

‘Mm.’ Dick forced his hand down, although it felt like his lungs would pop out his chest. ‘Bruised, I think.’

Slade grunted. ‘You handled yourself well back there. Did your alpha teach you to fight like that?’

‘Bruce wanted us to be able to defend ourselves.’ Another stab went through Dick’s chest, nothing to do with the kick to his sternum.

He’d spent hours on the mats with Bruce as a kid, learning to duck and punch. Then, when he was older, slipping through the dangerous parts of town at night, watching over drunken girls staggering home alone; homeless veterans wheeling shopping cats; lost tourists turning their maps over and over as they searched for their hotels.

Their pack were vigilantes, really. Nameless, faceless. They wore masks and bulletproof vests. In another world, maybe they’d be hailed as heroes, but Bruce preferred them to go unnoticed, if they could. It was worth it, when you watched that girl stumble safely into her house; when the veteran found the hundred-dollar bill Bruce slipped in his pocket; when the tourists never knew about the thugs with a crowbar looking to end their holiday with stolen wallets and broken ribs. All Bruce’s public-facing philanthropy as the famous Bat was one thing, but there was something special about those small, private acts of kindness.

Dick smiled faintly. ‘And other people.’

Slade snorted. ‘How noble.’

Dick’s happy bubble burst. ‘Some alphas are,’ he snapped.

‘Take it from me—no alpha cares about anyone but themselves.’

‘Bruce did.’

Slade arched the brow over his eyepatch. ‘And that’s why he bit you?’

Dick swivelled in his seat, blood boiling. ‘Bruce didn’t bite me until I was eighteen, when I _wanted_ it, when I was ready.’

‘And then he mated you and lived happily ever after.’ Slade rolled his eye, turning back to the road.

‘No.’ Dick dropped back in his seat, arms folded. ‘Bruce liked women.’

Slade nodded knowingly. ‘So you played second fiddle to another beta.’

Dick glared. ‘The Cat is an alpha, actually.’

Was he crazy, or were those buildings on the horizon? Dick frowned, squinting through the wobbling waves of heat.

‘Two alphas?’ Slade glanced sideways at him. ‘That must’ve been volatile.’

‘Not really.’ Dick had met people like Slade before. People with certain _ideas_ about the hierarchy. Alphas had to be stoic providers. Betas had to be loyal lieutenants. Omegas had to be gentle carers. ‘They bickered, I guess. But she stopped him decking anybody who looked at the pack funny, and he stopped her robbing anyone who insulted us at parties blind. They were good for each other.’ 

An ache burrowed into his chest. He hadn’t seen Selina since before Bruce died. Did she even know? He’d spent hours in Queen Bee’s palace praying the others found their way back to her. They needed an alpha to pull them together, and she needed her pack to keep her from razing Gotham City to the ground when she found out about Bruce.

Dick swallowed. _Let them be alive. Let them be OK. Let them be together._

There was no denying it anymore. Those were definitely buildings. A village, shimmering in the desert. Dick sat up straight. ‘Is that Abu Zuhur?’

‘No.’ Slade lounged back, setting his elbow against the window. ‘I want to shake Ra’s off. And to get a car you haven’t ripped apart.’

They drove into the village a few minutes later, weaving between whitewashed buildings with shuttered windows. A poster for soda was peeling off the side of the hotel where Slade stopped, the red background faded to yellow.

In the lobby, a bearded clerk darted up to meet them. He spoke with Slade in rapid Bialyan, glancing repeatedly at Dick’s bare chest. Dick looked away, heat flushing his face again. Damn Queen Bee and her damn transparent brothel clothing.

Finally, the clerk handed them a room key and directed them upstairs. Dick followed Slade up through a dingy hallway, and into a room that opened with Slade’s key.

Inside, the room was clean and bright, if a little cramped. The double bed filled almost all the space, covered in colourful patterned blankets. Another door opened onto a brightly tiled en suite bathroom. Double doors were open to a balcony; the curtains fluttered in a breeze, and a fresh smell hit Dick, as if it had just rained.

He padded across the room to the balcony and leaned out. Below, a woman in a hijab hummed to herself as she watered a tiny courtyard garden bursting with flowers.

Dick drew a long breath, relishing the smell of anything other than roasting sand and leather car seats.

‘I’m taking a shower.’ Slade eyed Dick up and down. ‘Try not to fall off the balcony.’

Dick turned, leaning backwards over the railing just to be spiteful. Sharp heat shot through his bruised chest and he hissed, bowing over double. Slade sniggered, and stepped into the en suite. A moment later, the sound of rushing water echoed from behind the door.

Dick stayed on the balcony, breathing in the fresh air, until someone knocked on the door. The clerk entered with a smile, carrying a jug of water. It looked deliciously cool, ice cubes jangling inside, condensation steaming the sides. He set it on the side, saying something in Bialyan, and Dick nodded and smiled vaguely, his mouth watering. The clerk placed a pile of clean linens on the end of the bed, gave Dick a last smile, then turned and walked out.

Dick lunged for the water. There were glasses on the side, but Dick just grabbed the jug and swigged straight from it. It was teeth-achingly cold. Coolness spread all through his body.

Dick slumped on the end of the bed, running his condensation-damp hands over his face. He never thought he’d miss the constant rain in Gotham.

The water in the shower shut off and Slade stepped out, a towel round his waist.

Dick shot to his feet.

An automatic snarl built in his throat. No alpha aura he’d ever known had so thoroughly screamed _threat_ as Slade, huge and naked, fixing his eyepatch over the slashed and scarred hole where his eye used to be.

Dick swallowed the snarl down before he could voice it, teeth gritted. His heart thudded and his hands shook. Water trailed down the dips between Slade’s many, _many_ muscles. Dick wheezed. Fuck, this man could snap him like a dry twig. Snap him, bite him, and bend him over and mate him. And Dick wouldn’t be able to do a single goddamn thing.

Slade stepped closer and Dick backed up instinctively. But Slade only snorted at him, and reached for the linens on the bed. He unfolded the one on the top, revealing a pale grey shirt.

Fresh clothes, Dick realised. Not linens.

‘Are you going to stand there hissing at me all night, or do you want a shower?’ Slade smirked.

Dick forced his back to straighten. He stalked, stiff-legged, past Slade, who swivelled to face him, as if he didn’t want Dick behind his back. As if _that_ mattered. Even if Dick got the jump on Slade from behind, he doubted he could fight him to a draw.

Dick darted into the en suite, and slammed the door shut. Slade’s laughter rang through the room behind him.

Heat flooded Dick’s body. How had he sat in a car with bastard for days and never _felt_ anything? A man built like Slade should be radiating alpha aura hard enough to knock Dick flat.

A man built like Slade ought to have bitten Dick hard enough to make him scream, and then fucked him in the back of the Jeep just to make sure he knew his place.

Dick trembled. His back hit the door. His watery legs buckled and he slid down, curling up on the tiles, trying to remember how to breathe. He’d made a _deal_ with that bastard?

He shifted, and felt a sudden pulse between his legs.

Dick tensed.

_No._

He buried his face in his hands.

 _No, no, fucking_ no _!_

His cock twitched, unphased by his horror.

Lowering his hands, Dick tipped his head back and drew a deep breath. It was natural. He was a beta and Slade was a strange, powerful alpha. It didn’t _mean_ anything. It was just a natural sign of submission. Fuck, it happened around Bruce once or twice, when Dick was thirteen or so and his hormones were utterly out of control. This wasn’t _nearly_ as horrifying as that. But Dick hadn’t popped a boner over an alpha for years—even when Bruce finally bit him, thank fuck.

Letting out a shaky sigh, Dick got to his feet, locked the door, and undressed for what was about to be a decidedly cold shower.

* * *

When Dick finally poked his head out the door, he found fresh clothes for him piled next to the door. He snatched them up and dressed in the bathroom.

The clothes were soft, obviously second-hand, worn and washed tissue-thin. But they were blessedly opaque: cream harem pants and a navy tunic. They covered most of his skin, leaving only his lower arms exposed, and the column of his throat. Queen Bee’s bite stood out there, stark and red.

Dick hadn’t noticed, until now, how badly his brothel clothes stank. Not just of his own stale sweat, but also of Queen Bee. Her alpha scent was cloying, somehow both floral and sweet. He bundled them up and chucked them in the corner, vowing never to touch the damn things again.

The clerk must have come back: Slade sat at a small table on the balcony with fresh water, two bottles of beer, and a spread of bread, cold meats and fruit. He looked up as Dick padded out and smiled wolfishly, his eyes flicking down Dick’s body and back up.

‘Feeling refreshed?’

Dick’s face burned. Surely Slade hadn’t seen—?

‘Great. Thanks.’ He sat stiffly, pushing his chair far from Slade.

At least Slade was marginally less threatening with his clothes on. But Dick couldn’t help seeing how his new shirt stretched over his muscles, creasing around his biceps. A fuzz of white chest hair poked out from under Slade’s collar. Dick gritted his teeth. Slade had definitely left that unbuttoned on purpose. _Bastard._

He eyed the food, his stomach growling. It was one thing to backchat an alpha, but there was something too … _assertive_ about snatching food from under one. Especially one as obviously powerful as Slade.

Warmth coiled in Dick’s lower belly. He tried not to groan. Apparently, the cold shower hadn’t been cold enough. He reached for the water. That, at least, wasn’t a particularly aggressive move. And cold water seemed to be the best thing for him right now.

‘You’re staring at me, Dick,’ Slade said quietly.

Dick looked away with a snort. ‘You’re staring at me.’

Because he was. Slade was staring with his single, grey eye, hungry and unapologetic. Shivers rushed down Dick’s spine.

_Fucking alphas._

Slade slid one of the beers in Dick’s direction. ‘Eat something. We have a long trip tomorrow.’

Gratefully, Dick reached out and started to eat. His chest tugged every time he reached too far over the table, and he winced.

‘I want to check that,’ Slade said, when Dick pulled his chest for the umpteenth time. ‘If you’ve broken any ribs …’

‘I haven’t broken anything,’ Dick shot back quickly.

Slade gave him a hard look. ‘I don’t imagine your pack will be pleased to have you back as damaged goods.’

‘You’ll have to find them first,’ Dick muttered.

He hadn’t meant to say it. It just slipped out, quiet and miserable. He hunched his shoulders, trying not to think about them. About Ra’s hunting them down, the way he’d hunted Dick. Had he caught them? Selina or Jason he’d probably kill outright. Damian, he might keep, if Damian was smart enough to play the humbled prodigal son. Dick doubted it. Damian was too proud to grovel. And Tim … Jesus, Tim. He shuddered.

Maybe they’d got away. Or maybe, like Dick, they’d stumbled into some other enemy territory. He didn’t know how long he’d been Queen Bee’s captive, waiting for her to have some use for him, going slowly mad in that cell of a room.

‘I wasn’t aware your pack would be difficult to find.’ Slade eyed him over the rim of his beer bottle.

Dick shrugged. ‘Like I said, I don’t know where they are.’

Slade’s expression didn’t change. ‘I thought I’d try Wayne Manor, for a start. Bruce Wayne _was_ your alpha, wasn’t he? I assumed, since you called the Bat “Bruce” earlier …’

Dick’s head shot up. ‘What—when—’

‘I borrowed the hotel’s phone while you were in the shower. The signal is terrible out here, but I got through, just about. It seems your pack all arrived home safely months ago.’ Slade smirked. ‘They’re sending someone to meet us in Abu Zuhur. With the cash, of course.’

Head spinning, Dick sagged.

They were safe.

_They were safe._

Tears pricked his eyes and he scrubbed them away before Slade could comment. ‘Who?’

‘They didn’t give a name.’

Slade’s expression was inscrutable. Dick wondered if he didn’t like the secrecy, or if it was just business as usual in Slade’s trade. Even if the latter was true, no alpha enjoyed someone else having the upper hand.

The secrecy didn’t give him any clue as to who it was. Bruce taught them all to be smart.

He almost didn’t dare believe it. Family. Safety. Home.

And, before he could stop it, a laugh burst out of him.

Slade glanced sideways at him. ‘Something funny?’

‘I just realised why you gave me clean clothes.’ Dick snorted. ‘You don’t want my pack to think you … _used_ your new beta before you gave me back.’

Slade’s reaction was quick, and subtle, but Dick caught it. His eyebrows raised for just a second, and then lowered. His eye narrowed, so briefly it might’ve been a twitch. ‘Unlike Queen Bee, I’m not so threatened by betas I need to dress them like whores to feel superior.’ He eyed Dick for a moment. ‘Although it was a good look on you.’

Dick scowled.

He ate slowly, putting off Slade inevitable demand to check his aching chest. But finally the plates were scraped clean, the sun was melting over the horizon, and Slade waved Dick back into the hotel room.

‘Take your shirt off.’ Slade closed the balcony doors behind him.

‘I’m _fine_.’ But Dick tugged the tunic off over his head. It wasn’t as if Slade hadn’t seen his bare chest already; that hellish brothel getup hadn’t left anything to the imagination.

And the thought of refusing Slade now sent shivers up his spine.

Slade gestured at the bed and Dick perched on the end of it, scrunching his new tunic in his fists. Slade knelt in front of him, and for once he wasn’t smirking. His single eye flicked over Dick’s chest, and slowly he reached up to touch. Dick flinched as Slade’s dry, calloused fingers brushed his skin.

‘Does that hurt?’ Slade’s eye flicked up.

‘No.’ Dick looked away. ‘Your hands are cold.’

Slade laughed softly. His hands were perfectly warm.

Dick gritted his teeth, trying not to shiver as Slade ran his hands over his chest and ribs, prodding gently along the length of each rib. As he touched Dick’s sternum, Dick hissed. Slade grunted; in acknowledgement or apology, Dick wasn’t sure.

‘Does it hurt when you breathe?’

Dick took an experimental breath. No pain. It must’ve faded sometime between the fight and arriving in town. ‘It did earlier. Not anymore. Not unless I take a deep breath.’

Slade nodded and lowered his hands. ‘Nothing serious. If the pain gets worse, tell me.’

‘Whatever you say, doc.’ Dick rolled his eyes.

Slade smirked again, and Dick’s chest tightened in a way that had _nothing_ to do with the pain in his sternum. His eyes slipped automatically to Slade’s unbuttoned collar, to the hint of muscle visible below his clavicle.

He turned away abruptly, holding his breath. As Slade stood back, Dick tugged his tunic back on, hands trembling.

It was natural. Of course he wanted to make this powerful, scary alpha smile. If the alpha was smiling, it meant Dick was safe. It was just stupid, animal instinct.

That was all.

He yawned, watching through the balcony doors as the sky darkened. It couldn’t be that late, but then he’d barely slept in the car, and between the panic and the fight …

‘Tired?’

Dick blinked up at Slade. There was a wicked glint in his eye. Dick frowned. What, had he drugged the food or something? He sat upright, heart hammering. Shit, would Slade do that? _Why_ would he do that?

And then, much too late, realisation dawned.

‘There’s only one bed.’

Slade’s smirk spread into a wolfish grin. ‘So there is.’ He shrugged. ‘You _are_ supposed to be my brand-new beta. Two beds would have been suspicious.’

Despite his newfound terror, Dick summoned the courage to grab a pillow and toss it at him. ‘You absolute _bastard_.’

Slade caught the pillow, and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to clarify some stuff about the Batfam in this chapter, particularly Bruce. In case it didn't make sense: in this universe, Bruce still does his undercover vigilante schtick, but he kept it more quiet and subtle so the whole "Batman" mythos never took off in the same way. He's known as the Bat in public, which is his pack name (and he's still pissed off plenty of villains even in that role, since he loves blocking their crime and shitty politics with his philanthropy, lol).
> 
> Some people were asking about the rest of the Batfam, so I'll try and slip more stuff about them in a future chapter. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Dick slept better than expected, all things considered.

Slade laid a pillow between them on the bed, and didn’t cross that line all night. Dick curled up at the very edge of his side with his back to Slade, but his spine prickled, and he twitched whenever Slade shifted or let out a slightly louder breath than usual. So eventually he turned over, clutching the blankets and watching Slade sleep. At least this way, he couldn’t be caught off-guard.

Within an hour, Slade was utterly still, just like when he slept in the car. He lay on his back, mouth closed into a hard line, chest barely rising with every shallow breath. Dick fell asleep watching him breathe.

Slade woke him too early, when the sun was just rising over the grey horizon. Dick ate his bodyweight in toasted flatbread with apricot jam—it was so long since he ate anything sweet—before Slade dragged him out into the village.

Their Jeep waited for them, sparkling clean, with the damage under the wheel repaired. Slade passed a few coins to a mustachioed man with oil-stained fingers, and he grinned and waved them on their way.

‘We’re a fair way from Abu Zuhur, with our detour,’ Slade said. ‘It’ll be three days on the road; two if we drive late into the night.’

Curled up in his passenger seat, Dick nodded. It was starting to feel familiar now, curled up in the car beside Slade, listening to the crates rattle in the trailer and static cutting though a singer warbling in Arabic on the radio. And now, he was headed home …

He dared to imagine Selina pulling him into a hug as he walked back into Wayne Manor; Jason landing a punch on his shoulder; Tim laughing and ruffling his hair while Damian rolled his eyes behind him. The looks on their faces when he drew out the vial of Lazarus water.

He smiled.

_Home._

* * *

The first day on the road was almost relaxing. Slade didn’t talk much, except to ask Dick odd questions about his pack.

‘Alfred’s the only other beta,’ Dick said. ‘He was Bruce’s father’s beta, too. He’s like my grandfather.’ He curled one leg up on the seat and stretched the other out, winding his arms around his knee. It felt so natural, to use their given names instead of the pack names they usually presented to the public. Probably because Slade already knew Dick’s real name, and he didn’t seem to have a pack name of his own. ‘The rest of us and Bruce and Selina’s sons. We’re all adopted—well, except Damian, he’s Bruce’s son.’

Slade’s eye flashed in Dick’s direction. ‘Damian?’

‘Mm. He’s not old enough for the hierarchy yet. Jason and Tim are both omegas. Tim looks like one, but you wouldn’t believe it to look at Jason. He’s build like a brick outhouse. One time an alpha made a pass at him and he nearly tore the man’s arms off.’

That was last year. Jason was seventeen then, and he’d only got bigger in the year since.

Slade furrowed his brow and shook his head. ‘Who was Damian’s mother?

Dick winced. But it wasn’t exactly a secret. ‘Talia al Ghul. He … doesn’t speak to her anymore.’

Slade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. So he’d heard of her. But then he loosened his grip, gave a terse nod, and simply asked, ‘Tell me about your alpha. Alphas.’

Dick folded his arms, leaning back against the car door, as much to watch Slade’s expressions as to put distance between them. Perhaps Slade was asking these questions to keep Dick thinking about his family; to put him more at ease. More likely, he was trying to gauge if he could best them. Alphas didn’t like to be one-upped.

Slade drove well into the night, and Dick’s stomach filled with butterflies. Maybe they’d make that two-day limit after all. He put the seat down before Slade pulled over, tilted his head back, and slept.

He woke with the sunrise. Slade had started driving again—if he’d ever stopped—and Dick sat up, rubbing his eyes. They were ploughing down a rocky road alongside a red cliff face, which blotted out the brightness of the morning sun. Dick straightened his chair and stared up through the sunroof. Something glinted on top of the cliffs.

‘We’re making good time,’ Slade said. ‘We’ll be at Abu Zuhur tonight, and then we never have to see each other again.’

‘Good.’ Dick stretched his arms as far over his head as he could reach without hitting the roof.

Slade gave him a sideways glace and a smirk.

Dick flushed. ‘I mean—’

But he cut himself off. No, screw Slade. Did _didn’t_ want to ever see him again. He’d take his Lazarus water, hand over the cash, and fly home happy. In a few years, Slade would just be some asshole Dick barely thought about anymore.

Slade chuckled, but said nothing more. Apparently, since the hotel and the shower, flustering Dick was his new hobby.

The road curved to the right, following the natural formations of the cliff. The sun peeked out as they turned a little further. And then—

Silver.

Dick’s heart plummeted into his stomach.

A dozen silver cars blocked the road.

Slade cursed, and slammed his foot down. The Jeep roared and lurched forward, tearing straight for the blockade. Through the tinted windscreens, Dick imagined he could see hooded figures with gleaming knives at their belts. Slade’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. Then, with a sharp tug at the handbrake, Slade wrenched the wheel and flicked the car around a hundred and eighty degrees. Dick’s stomach flipped. He gripped the seat in both hands, yelling in terror.

He was used to Bruce pulling shit like this. But Bruce’s favourite car came with a roll rage.

Behind them, engines snarled as Ra’s al Ghul’s men roared after them. The silver cars flashed past, throwing clouds of dust into the windscreen. Then they whipped round, blocking Jeep’s path.

Slade snarled, and this time Dick tensed in anticipation before the Jeep whipped around for a second time.

But there were too many silver cars, surrounding them on every side now, creeping in like wolves picking off their prey.

As if to pounce, one car shot forward and slammed into the Jeeps trailer. Dick shrieked as the Jeep whirled, rocking up on two wheels before it slammed back down again. With a bang and a screech, another car rammed in on Dick’s side, scraping the door. The side mirror snapped off with crack. And still, the other cars inched forward, hemming the Jeep in.

‘Fuck!’ Slade slammed his fist into the wheel. He grabbed Dick’s wrist, manacle-tight. ‘Fight. You want to live? You want to see your pack again? Fight like hell.’

Heart thundering, Dick nodded.

Then the door on his side opened, and hands reached in.

He twisted away from Slade, snarling and kicking. Hands landed on his legs—his arms—tightened in his clothes. Everything blurred and Dick couldn’t tell one man from another—just a mash of dark robes and cold eyes and grabbing hands. They dragged him out and he swung his fists, flailing wildly. His knuckles connected with something hard. One of the hands on his arm loosened and Dick struck out again, then ducked and swept his foot out at their ankles. His heel hit something that crunched, and then men were bellowing and clamouring to get him.

Three betas. Three betas in black robes.

Dick took a breath, and lashed out at the first. He ducked the first blow at his head; weaved around the second beta’s strike; twisted and slammed his elbow into a ribcage. He heard a grunt, and snapped his knee up into the beta’s stomach before slipping away.

The other two backed away a step, and Dick felt a surge of triumph before a soft hush of sand alerted him to the man sneaking up behind him. He turned, but not quick enough to avoid the kidney shot that made his knees buckle. Snarling, Dick rolled, staggered up, and tried to back away, to put distance between the three—now four—attackers and himself.

His back slammed into the Jeep.

‘Shit.’

The new attacker lunged, and Dick darted aside. The attacker overreached, and snarled as his fist cracked into the metal door. Dick bent low, sizing up the other betas, waiting for them to rush him—

And stumbled.

Something snarled around his ankles. A weight cracked against his shin. And Dick went down, sprawling in the sand. The wind huffed out his body, and he lay gasping.

_Move, move!_

He reached down, fumbling with the ropes wound around his ankles. _Bolas_.

A foot snapped into his ribs and he yelled in pain. Then yelled again as hands curled around his arms, wrenching them back, twisting him until his flipped onto his stomach.

He writhed, kicking even as the _bolas_ tightened again, dragging his legs out straight. The betas drew his arms behind him, and he felt sharp, thin cord tighten around his wrists. He lifted his chin, drawing breath to curse.

And they wrenched a sack down over his head.

He struggled, kicking and swearing, seeing little more than bright pinpricks of light in the hessian weave of the sack. His breath blew back in his face, hot and damp. He got the impression of being shoved backwards, and smelled leather car seats. Then heard the door slam closed.

Dick kicked out with his bound legs. A dull thump. He’d hit the car door. It didn’t budge.

He struggled and writhed, wrenching against the restraints with all his might. Outside, Slade was snarling and people were yelling, but Dick couldn’t tell who was winning. As he struggled, he slipped off the car seats and dropped into the footwell. Something cracked against his hip and he hissed, curling up in pain.

The car rumbled around him as they moved off. Dick struggled again, tipping his head, trying to wriggle the sack off from over his face. It didn’t budge. Had they caught Slade as well? Or killed him?

Dick swallowed. He took a few deep breaths, letting his forehead rest on the bottom of the footwell. He worked his arms slowly behind him, twisting them, trying to find some way to slip free. The cords only seemed to tighten.

By the time the car stopped, Dick’s shoulders burned and his wrists felt shredded. Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, and hauled him up and out.

Hot air hit him like a boiling bath. Dick stumbled on the _bolas_ still twined around his ankles, but before he could hit the sand an arm wound round his waist and hefted him up in a fireman’s lift. A shoulder jutted into his stomach and Dick grunted, hanging like a sack. Sweat dripped on the back of his neck.

They only carried him a few paces before shade slipped over Dick, putting out the pinpricks of light shining through the sack. He was set down on his feet, and the _bolas_ was cut loose. Fingers closed around his elbow, and then something tugged at the cord around his wrists—and it fell away.

Dick swung a punch.

He hit nothing. But the flare of defiance at least felt good.

Until someone caught his arm and dragged it up behind him. Dick hissed, then grunted as a hand planted in his chest, shoving him back. Something solid slammed into his back—something they pulled his arms around, before binding his wrists again.

A post. Wooden, by the feel of it under his fingertips. A luxury, in the Bialyan desert.

Heavy breaths and thudding footsteps told him more people were approaching.

Dick lifted his head. ‘Slade?’

A grunt. Then, as the footsteps passed Dick—

‘I’m here.’

Dick sagged. They hadn’t killed him.

The sack lifted off his head. Dick hissed as light flooded his vision, tilting his head away and blinking rapidly. He stood in the shelter of a broad, opened-walled tent. Soft breaths of wind stirred the sand under his feet. Beyond the tent, dark-robed men and women stood to attention beside a flock of silver cars.

He was tied to a post that stretched up to the tent’s roof. A few paces away, Slade leaned back against another post, as if he were simply lounging there, despite his hands being tied behind him. Sweat dripped down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. A graze scuffed his cheek.

Outside, a car door opened. Slade straightened.

A tall, robed figure stepped out of the car.

Dick’s breath stuck.

 _Murderer_.

Smiling pleasantly, Ra’s al Ghul dusted down his robes, straightened his collar, and glided into the shade of the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who missed my cliffhangers? :p


	7. Chapter 7

Dick straightened, drawing a breath. The alpha aura hit him like a punch in the gut, thickening the air until he could barely breathe. He waited for the snap of an order that would bring him to his knees, however he fought it.

But Ra’s slipped straight past him, and instead stopped in front of Slade. ‘My, my. You have given us a run for our money, Deathstroke.’

Dick jolted. _Deathstroke._

Was that … Slade’s pack name?

Which meant …

_Slade had a pack._

Dick sagged against the post behind him.

Slade’s face paled, despite the sweat beading on his forehead. He curled his lip. ‘You’ve made a mistake, Ra’s.’

Fast as a striking cobra, Ra’s snapped his hand out, and caught Slade by the chin. ‘Where is the Lazarus water?’

‘I drank it.’

Ra’s’s fingers dug into Slade’s beard. ‘You do not want to lie to me.’

Dick’s stomach coiled. He waited—waited for Slade to snap out a kick, to bite, to _attack_.

But Slade didn’t move.

Ra’s sighed. ‘Very well. There are other ways.’ He glanced over Slade’s shoulder, waving his hand. ‘Cut him loose.’

Dick jerked against his restraints. Ra’s was mad. Set another alpha—an _enemy_ alpha—loose? Even with all his betas and omegas standing by, what sort of person did that?

_The sort of person who’s killed alphas before._

Sudden heat flared in Dick’s chest, and he drew back his lips in a snarl. Ra’s was mad. Good. Let Slade tear him to shreds. Behind him, Dick’s trembling hands closed into fists. _Kill him._

A black-robed woman stepped forward, knife glinting in her hand. With a swift upward slice, she snapped the cords binding Slade’s arms.

In an instant, Slade twisted and grabbed her. She snapped a kick into his abdomen, which he took with barely a grunt; then he returned with a downward strike at her knees. She dropped with a cry, and next thing Slade turned to Ra’s, the knife in his hand—

‘Stop.’

Ra’s al Gul’s voice went through Dick like the snap of breaking bone. Dick went slack, his legs turning to water. _Alpha, alpha, alpha._ His mouth went dry.

Slade hesitated.

‘Come here.’

It wasn’t even aimed at Dick, but the urge to obey was so sudden and violent, he jerked forward. Pain shot through his wrists and shoulders as he jolted them against the pole. Dick bit his tongue to hold back a whine, his heart pounding, his chest aching. He twisted his hands behind him.

And Slade—

Slade stared at Ra’s, his single eye hard and cold and loathing. The order to stop—the fact that it’d _worked_ —must’ve been humiliating enough. He was caught off-guard, but still. Alphas didn’t take orders. Not even from other alphas. And now, for Ra’s to try and push him around …

Ra’s’s alpha aura crackled like electricity under Dick’s skin. Dick’s blood ran cold, then flushed suddenly hot. The scent of burning metal filled the air. Dick whimpered.

Slade’s legs shook.

He took a step. Another. Each movement slow and jerky, like he was resisting every second.

Dick’s heart dropped into his stomach.

_No._

As Slade drew level, Ra’s put his hand out. ‘Give me the knife, Deathstroke.’

Slade winced, as if the name were a needle digging under his skin. Then he lifted the knife, white-knuckled, glaring into Ra’s al Ghul’s eyes like he meant to plant the blade in his face.

He placed the knife in Ra’s al Ghul’s hand.

Dick shrank against the pillar, throat so tight he could barely breathe.

_It can’t—he can’t—_

‘Kneel.’

The order was soft, but the power of it seared the air like melted steel.

Dick’s legs buckled.

It didn’t matter that Ra’s wasn’t talking to him—wasn’t even _looking_ at him. Dick’s knees hit the sand, arms wrenching at the awkward angle. He dropped his head, panting, listening to the distinct thuds of those few robed betas and omegas in earshot also dropping to their knees.

Slade didn’t move.

Dick glanced up, triumph blazing through him. Of course Ra’s could cut down betas and omegas. What alpha couldn’t? But to drag another alpha down—

‘Deathstroke.’ Ra’s whispered. ‘I said _kneel_.’

Slade groaned, low and heavy, like a man stabbed in the back.

He knelt.

‘No!’ Dick choked the word out before he could stop himself.

Ra’s looked up at Dick for the first time, and smiled.

‘I’ve been ignoring you, haven’t I, Nightwing?’ He stepped away from Slade, who remained shaking and sweating on his knees, apparently fighting to get back up. Reaching out, Ra’s slipped his fingers through Dick’s hair, tightened his fist, and dragged Dick’s head up.

Dick snarled. ‘Murderer.’

‘Your Bat shouldn’t have taken my grandson.’ Ra’s narrowed his eyes. ‘Damian was mine.’

Arms shaking, Dick strained against the ties around his wrists, longing to wrap his fingers around Ra’s al Ghul’s smug bastard throat. ‘Damian was a _boy_ , not your goddamn _pet_!’

His heart pounded and his throat was too tight to breathe, and every time he blinked he was in another room with Ra’s al Ghul leering down at him—a room in Nanda Parbat, with Bruce at his feet and his brother’s fleeing footsteps ringing in his ears.

Ra’s leaned in, close enough to make Dick recoil, and whispered, ‘Perhaps if you were half the beta the Bat thought you were, you could have stopped me killing him.’

Dick’s response was less the ‘fuck you’ he intended and more an incoherent scream of rage.

Ra’s straightened with a soft chuckle, and stepped back before Dick could spit in his face. ‘Deathstroke?’ He whirled on Slade, waving one hand over his shoulder to beckon two black-robed betas closer. ‘The Lazarus water. You can tell me now, or these loyal betas can remind you of your place, and then I can _order_ you to tell me. Your choice.’

Still on his knee, shoulders shaking, Slade lifted his head and ground out, ‘Fuck you, Ra’s.’

Ra’s rolled his eyes. ‘Very well.’ A wave of the hand, and the two betas swept forward. Ra’s glanced at them as they passed. ‘Fingernails should do.’

_Fingernails?_ Dick jolted. No. No, they weren’t—

Slade lurched as the betas crouched beside him, teeth set in a snarl. His legs jerked, and for a moment he almost lunged to his feet.

‘Stay down.’ Ra’s kept his voice soft, but the power behind the order was like a wave of heat; Dick shuddered, and Slade ground a snarl between gritted teeth. ‘Give them your arm, Deathstroke.’

Hand trembling with the effort of fighting the order, Slade lifted his arm, and let the betas take it. Something metal flashed from the folds of their robes, and Dick heaved against his ties as the betas spread Slade’s fingers and closed the clamp around his first fingernail.

‘Stop it!’ Dick thrashed. ‘Don’t!’

Slade’s jaw tightened, his face grey. Sweat shone on his face as he twitched and shook, his chest heaving with each breath. His single eye flashed up to Ra’s, and Dick couldn’t tell if it was fear on his face or just plain rage.

Ra’s simply met his stare, then nodded.

The beta tightened his grip on the clamp. Slade drew a sharp breath at the first tug.

‘Don’t, DON’T!’ Dick bellowed. ‘It’s with Queen Bee!’

Ra’s brought his palm up, and the betas stilled. Slade sagged, panting through gritted teeth.

‘Slade sold the Lazarus water to Queen Bee.’ Dick licked his dry lips, gasping as if he’d run a mile. ‘She’s got it. You don’t have to hurt him.’

Arching an eyebrow, Ra’s turned to Slade. ‘Queen Bee? I hope she paid you generously.’

Slade just snarled in response.

Ra’s straightened. ‘Well, thank you for your honesty, Nightwing.’ He waved at the betas. ‘Continue.’

‘What?’ Dick bolted upright. ‘No—NO!’

Slade barely had a moment to flinch.

The beta tightened his grip again—and pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someday, I'll get tired of whumping Slade and go back to whumping Dick.
> 
> Today is not that day. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that the apostrophe already present in the name Ra's kills me every time I have to write it as a possessive. Ra's's. Ra's's's's's's's.

Slade roared and flecks of blood sprayed from his finger, soaking into the sand.

The betas let him go and he hunched, cradling his hand to his chest as blood trailed down his wrist. Dick yelped, thrashing against the ties holding him back until they cut into his wrists, burning like the slash of a knife.

Ra’s watched with a face like cold stone, hands folded neatly behind his back. ‘One for stealing my property,’ he said mildly, as Slade raised his head, snarling. ‘And one for leaving your pack.’ He nodded at the betas.

‘What?’ Dick choked. ‘No!’

But the betas swept in, reaching for Slade’s arm again. Slade’s single eye flashed to Ra’s, wide and furious, and Ra’s stared back without remorse. The first beta took Slade’s bloody wrist.

And Slade yanked him down.

He moved quicker than Dick could draw breath, gripping the first beta and dragging him down and across, slamming him into the second. Ra’s hissed, but before he could speak, Slade swept his leg out, forcing Ra’s to leap back before he was knocked off his feet.

‘Deathstroke—’

But before Ra’s could get any more out, Slade snatched the pliers from the fallen beta’s hand, and launched them overarm. They struck Ra’s face with a sickening crack and he tumbled back. He landed in the sand with dull eyes, his jaw hanging crooked and slack.

For just a moment, briefer than half a heartbeat, Slade remained crouched in the sand, bleeding and snarling like a trapped predator. Then he rose, slowly at first, as though still pushing against Ra’s last waking command— _stay down_ —then the spell seemed to break, and he straightened.

And turned to Dick.

The world, until the moment, hat contained nothing but Slade, and Ra’s, and the two anonymous betas. Now, as sharply as the snap of elastic, Dick saw the rest of the League of Shadows, charging across the desert towards them.

Dick tucked his feet under him, and stood. This was the only chance. The moment Ra’s got back up—assuming the even did get back up—he’d order Dick and Slade back down, and that would be the end of it.

He twisted his arms behind him, but couldn’t break the ties. Breathing hard, Dick glanced around him. Over both shoulders. Just more of Ra’s pack, closer now and closer, and if they didn’t kill Slade they’d certainly put him down hard enough he wouldn’t get back up again. Heart thudding, Dick looked up.

_Ah._

That would do.

Before the League could set foot in the tent, Dick tucked his legs and sprang up—straight up. He clamped his feet either side of the post at his back, and gripped with his hands behind him. His muscles screamed, shoulders burning at the awkward angle, but he held on. Then, gritting his teeth, he drew his feet up, and began to climb.

It was just like being a kid again, back when Bruce’s pack was just the two of them and Alfred. He used to shimmy up drainpipes and lampposts to keep up with Bruce; he just couldn’t jump as high as a grown man. Except now, he had to do it backwards, and the Shadows were gathering beneath him, eyes blazing, sword flashing.

A few steps away, Slade laid down one beta after another, his face scarlet with rage, or pain, or both. A kick to the head. A fist in the gut. The sickening crunch of a broken bone. But gradually, inch by inch, they landed a hit on him, and another. The higher Dick climbed, the more Slade fumbled and staggered, still on his feet but struggling, taking blows to his shoulders and back and ribs. Dick reached the top of the post, his head pressing into the white canopy of the tent.

He shoved up.

The canopy slipped.

With a yell, half pain, half triumph, Dick looped his arms up over the top of the post and under his legs. For a moment he scrabbled, balance lost. Then he snatched the post with one hand, the tent fabric in the other. The post tilted ...

And lurched down.

Dick’s stomach flipped, and he tumbled, the tent sweeping down with him. Folds of white cloth rippled and billowed, and landed on the Shadows below like a great, heavy blanket. Dick landed on bent legs, and they buckled underneath him, and next thing he was buried in a suffocating shroud, arms still bound in front of him.

He bowed his head and ran, letting the fabric hiss over his hair. Black feet swept into view and Dick struck out with a wild kick. They fell back, and through the white haze of sunlight pressing through the fallen gazebo, Dick caught a sliver of metal. He ducked, snatched up the knife, and swept it over his head. The fabric tore with a high, screeching sound almost like a scream, and then Dick burst out into the sun.

A few meters away, the cars gleamed like beetles.

Dick leapt over the tent fabric and ran. For a moment, the struggling, flailing figures under the fabric were almost comical—until one by one, they realised what Dick had done, and slashed upwards with their own blades, tearing free.

And turning towards Dick.

He dodged the swipe of a sword, and ducked under the flash of throwing stars, skidding on his knees in the sand before staggering back up and running, heart pounding, gasping for breath, toward the cars. Freedom. Escape.

A dark shape came level with him. Dick whirled, ready to throw a fist—but then another, larger figure barrelled into the Shadow from behind, sending him sprawling.

‘Run!’ Slade bared his teeth, his face scarlet. ‘Go!’

Dick ran, feet thudding in the sand, each breath stabbing through his ribs. Slade overtook by a half-step, and then they reached the first car. Slade slammed into the driver’s side door, and Dick vaulted over the hood, wrenched open the passenger door and leaped in an instant before the wheels skidded in the sand, the engine roaring.

Gripping the seat in both hands, Dick drew sharp, dry breaths as Slade twisted the wheel, and the car tore away into the desert.

* * *

It was a long time before Dick could do anything besides stare at the wide, flat desert stretching in front of them. His pulse gradually slowed. Licking his dry lips, he swivelled in his seat to peer through the rear window. No glittering cars. No puffs of kicked up sand.

‘They’ll go after the Lazarus water before they come for us,’ Slade said.

Dick didn’t believe him for an instant. ‘Your hand.’

‘It’s fine.’

Blood dripped from Slade’s finger, smearing over the steering wheel.

Dick chewed his lip. ‘Maybe there’s a first aid kit in here.’

He scrambled into the back. Nothing on the seats or in the footwells, but the rear middle seat was separated from those either side. Hooking his fingers over it, he dragged the back down and got access to the trunk.

Sighing, Dick tipped his head back and silently thanked whoever might be listening.

The trunk was stuffed with anything they could possibly need. Bottles of water, packets of food, gas, blankets, and even—yes—a first aid kit. Ra’s looked after his own, it seemed.

Tugging out two bottles of water and the first aid kit, Dick climbed back up in front, where he slumped and cracked open the first bottle. He took a swig, sighed, and took another. The water was lukewarm and tasteless, but it soothed his mouth and throat. He looked up at Slade. ‘Thirsty?’

Slade nodded, not looking round. Capping his own bottle, Dick opened the second and passed it over.

‘There’s a first aid kit, too,’ Dick said. ‘Pull up and I can bandage your hand. ‘

Slade nodded again, but made no move to slow the car, instead lifting the water to his lips with a bloody hand.

It was a few more minutes before Slade pulled up, once they’d found the cliffs they’d been tracing earlier—no sign of the road—and he’d wedged the car out of sight in a fissure. Dick popped his door open, grabbed the first aid kit and his water, and walked round the front of the car. Slade opened his door, swinging his legs out as Dick cracked the first aid kit open.

‘Here.’ Dick held out his hand, and after a moment Slade put his bloody, calloused hand in Dick’s. Dick reopened his water bottle with his teeth, and tipped it over Slade’s hand. Blood, fresh scarlet and dried brown, rinsed away as Dick gently scrubbed with his fingertips.

Slade didn’t finch, even as Dick came close to the bare, pink flesh where his fingernail used to be. ‘I can do this myself. And you shouldn’t waste water.’

‘We have plenty.’

‘You’re a bad liar.’

Dick rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny it. What even constituted plenty of water, out here? They had a few bottles, but he had no idea how far it was to the road, or even which direction. Even if they found the road, chances were they’d only run in Ra’s’s people again.

Slade’s fingers twitched in Dick’s hand. Swallowing, Dick reached into the first aid kit and drew out a pad of cotton. Glancing up at Slade apologetically, he pressed the pad to Slade’s mangled fingertip. Slade hissed softly, but didn’t move as Dick got out a length of gauze and wound it around Slade’s finger.

How had Ra’s controlled Slade?

It didn’t make any sense. Alphas couldn’t control other alphas. Was Ra’s really that powerful? True, even Bruce had baulked in front of him, but he hadn’t _knelt_ as Ra’s’s feet.

Dick secured the gauze with a plaster from the first aid kit, then stepped back. ‘Now what?’

Slade shrugged. His face was grey, and shining with sweat. ‘I still want that reward money from your pack.’

Dick sorted, closing the first aid kit with a snap. ‘Let’s have a look at that GPS.’

He got back in the car, and reached for the touchscreen on the dashboard. It lit up, showed a loading bar, and finally opened on an empty space with a tiny car icon in the centre. Dick tapped the zoom out button, sipping from his water again. Finally, a thin white line appeared in the corner of the screen.

‘That must be the road,’ he said, rotating the screen with two fingers to set north at the top. ‘We’ll reach it if we head …’

He hesitated.

Latitude lines showed the cliffs they were parked under. And just a little way to the south-west …

He zoomed out further.

And laughed.

He tapped the map, setting a custom destination over two towering cliffs, leaning against each other as if for support. ‘Head this way. South-west.’

Slade frowned. ‘Abu Zuhur is east. And the road is there.’ He swiped the screen until the white line appeared again.

‘Ra’s will be looking for us on the road.’ Dick looked up at Slade, and despite Slade’s assertion before, he didn’t argue now. In fact, he looked shaken, and Dick couldn’t blame him. For an alpha to be ordered around like that … ‘Trust me. I know this place.’

After a long silence, Slade shook his head and started the car. ‘You’d better be right about this.’


	9. Chapter 9

As they grew close enough to the cliffs rocks to slide under their shadow, Slade shot Dick a look, as if to say, ‘Well?’

‘That way.’ Dick pointed. ‘Drive straight between them. There should be a shape on one side—a splotch kind of like a tree.’

Dick glanced at the GPS, but the screen was now blank—no signal. Of course. 

Slade’s brow furrowed. Although he didn’t complain or even wince, Dick could see his jaw tighten whenever he moved his injured hand. He drove where Dick indicated, looking utterly unconvinced.

The ravine was long enough that just driving from end to end would take several minutes, the car rumbling and rocking about on the uneven ground. But they didn’t need to drive all way the way through—Dick spotted the place after less than a minute.

‘Here! Pull up.’

Giving Dick another hard look, Slade drew to a stop. ‘I hope you don’t intend for us to climb.’

Dick snorted. That was just the sort of shit Bruce _would_ pull, back in the early days. But he’d mellowed out by the time this place was built. ‘No climbing. Follow me.’

Only when he got out the car did he realise how weak he felt. How long had they been driving? He hadn’t eaten all day, and the adrenaline from their clash with Ra’s had long since worn off. His legs wobbled, and he hung on to the door for a second until his head stopped spinning.

As Slade got out the car, Dick straightened, closing his own door. He headed to the mark on the wall—a long, thin red line down the gold stone, spreading into a large, bulbous shape overhead. Dick set his hand on the stone. He smoothed his fingers over it. Closed his eyes. It was here somewhere ... a tiny shape jutting out from the stone. Slade stood at his shoulder, and Dick didn’t need to look to guess the expression on his face. 

There! Grinning, Dick pressed his finger into the shape. It fell inwards, and behind the rock something hissed.

Dick stepped back as the rock parted to reveal a sleek black screen. Beside him, Slade shifted, raising his chin and folding his arms. Trying to hide his surprise.

The black screen lit up, flashing the pack symbol of a black bat. Dick pressed his finger into the centre of the logo, and waited while it silently scanned his fingerprint.

A smooth, robotic female voice said, ‘Welcome, Nightwing.’

The ground trembled. A sound like thunder rolled between the cliffs, booming and echoing. And the rock parted further, revealing an open door. It was wide enough to drive a tank through, let alone their stolen car. Dick had seen Bruce swing a jet in there once: shooting down the canyon between the rocks and then whipping into the tight space as easily as slipping a button in a hole.

‘We should hide the car,’ Dick said. ‘In case Ra’s comes looking for us.’

The whole area was a dead zone—Ra’s couldn’t possibly track them. But Bruce had long since beaten into Dick’s skull the importance of hiding everything. Just his luck if some hobbyist went flying overhead in their rickety plane and spotted a car abandoned in the desert.

Slade nodded, and ducked back in the car. His face was grey.

Dick waved Slade in, although the doorway was so large his help was unnecessary. With Slade and the car inside, Dick hit a button on the interior wall. The ground shuddered again, and tiny loose stones clacked down the cliff wall as the door rumbled closed, dropping them into the dark.

Lights flicked on the instant the door closed, and Dick’s stomach swooped as the floor below him trembled, then dropped. Of course, Bruce couldn’t possibly build anything at ground level.

Rock walls were gradually replaced with grey concrete, and still the elevator descended. Finally, a crack of new light appeared at Dick’s feet, and the platform sank softly to a level floor.

The room was broad and spartan: a parking garage for all Bruce’s gadgets. A squat four-by-four sat in the corner, beside crates of travelling supplies. Slade stepped out the car, staring around the room with suspicion.

‘One of Bruce’s safehouses,’ Dick explained. ‘He needed a place to stay when he was investigating stuff in Bialya. This is where I was headed before Queen Bee …’ He trailed off into a miserable mutter.

‘He built this place,’ Slade said slowly, ‘and nobody noticed?’

Dick snorted. ‘You’d be amazed what Bruce got away with. This is just the garage. C’mon.’

He crossed the room and pushed through the door. The room beyond was dark for an instant, and then the lights flickered on automatically.

A sofa curved around a rock wall, with a dining table and chairs filling the centre of the room. A chandelier hung over the table, electric candles gleaming. Dick smirked. That was Alfred’s addition. Apparently, the man just wasn’t happy without a chandelier to dust.

Dick headed to the kitchenette across the room. The counters were dusty with disuse, but the cupboards were still stocked with non-perishables: jars of rice and pasta, tinned fruit and vegetables, instant coffee (a demand from Tim), and various and sundry other groceries that wouldn’t go off until judgement day.

Watching Slade stagger in from the corner of his eye, Dick took out a tin of apricots, pulled the tab, and picked out a cool slice with his fingertips. The fruit melted on his tongue. He leaned back on the counter with a moan. ‘Hungry?’

Slade turned to him like a sleepwalker stuck in a vivid and baffling dream. The door slipped out of Slade’s hand and banged shut behind him. Dick grinned. Was this how Slade felt every time he flustered Dick? Dick almost didn’t blame him for deliberately ruffling his feathers. Almost.

He held up the tinned apricots. ‘We have food. Lots of it.’

‘Uh … huh.’ Slade sank onto the sofa.

Reaching back into the cupboard, Dick pulled out another tin and tossed it across the room. Despite his dazed expression, Slade caught it. As he cracked it open, Dick turned and dug out some dried pasta. They needed a proper meal. He ran the tap for a couple of minutes to get clean water through, before filling a pot and getting the pasta boiling.

When he turned back, Slade was setting the tin aside, licking his fingers clean. And Dick would’ve _sworn_ the slow, wet slide of Slade’s tongue over each fingertip was deliberate, except that Slade wasn’t even looking in his direction, and didn’t shoot Dick a smirk even after he put his hand down.

Swallowing hard, Dick turned back to the pasta.

A minute later, he brought two plates to the dining table. Pasta and tomato sauce—hardly a feast, but better than nutrition bars. Dick wolfed his down in seconds; Slade ate more slowly, his single eye flicking repeatedly to Dick’s face, as if he expected Dick to launch an attack at any moment. Dick supposed he should’ve seen this coming, dragging Slade into another alpha’s territory.

Something about the thought tugged at his conscience.

_Another alpha_.

He set his fork down, catching Slade’s next glance.

How had Ra’s al Ghul controlled another alpha?

It was impossible. No alpha could do that. Seeing Slade fall to his knees was like watching the stars burn out and the sky come crashing down.

_Slade never bit me._

Dick rubbed his throat, where Queen Bee’s bite still technically made him one of her pack. He remembered the alpha aura off her, a sensation like oil coating his skin, and her orders like weights baring him down. He’d never felt anything like that off Slade.

Except, maybe, in the hotel.

But no, even that wasn’t an alpha aura. That was just instinct; a panicked reaction to seeing exactly how strong Slade really was (and, OK, maybe not just panic, either—Dick unconsciously pressed his legs together under the table). When Dick ran for the bathroom, Slade turned to follow him. Because he didn’t want Dick to get behind his back … or because he didn’t want Dick to _see_ his back.

Dick let out a breath.

‘You’re not an alpha, are you?’

Slade’s fingers tightened on his fork. Dick tensed, wondering if he might throw it, or jab it in Dick’s eye. Slowly, Slade looked up. His jaw was tense, and tight lines surrounded his eyepatch.

‘No.’

Dick’s tongue felt suddenly too large for his mouth. It seemed _impossible_. A man as large as Slade, as strong as Slade, as fucking _terrifying_ as Slade had to be an alpha.

And he realised, with creeping horror, that this was what everyone felt like when they met Jason for the first time.

‘Then … you’re a …’

‘Beta. Just like you.’

Dick sat back, his head spinning. No wonder Slade hadn’t bitten him. It wouldn’t _do_ anything. Sure, he could wrestle Dick down and scare him and give him a nasty scar, but it wouldn’t trigger Dick’s beta instinct to submit. It wouldn’t snap him into a new pack.

And Slade hadn’t wanted Dick to see his back because, like Dick, he had pack markings there. Dick’s gaze flicked to Slade’s shoulder, and he wished he’d paid more attention that day in the hotel. Wished he’d seen just a glimpse of them.

‘Ra’s was your alpha,’ Dick said softly.

‘All my life.’

Dick winced. What had Slade says before—that all alphas were only out for themselves? He shuddered. No wonder Slade had such a shitty opinion of alphas. ‘You fooled me. And Queen Bee, I think.’

‘I’m good at that.’ Slade flexed his hand, examining the gauze covering his injured finger. ‘Ra’s trained me. It was useful for him to have a fake alpha around. People respect alphas.’ He snorted. ‘I could steal for him, kill for him, whatever he wanted. And everyone assumed I was a lone wolf, or leading a small pack of whatever omegas Ra’s threw at me. No one linked whatever I did back to Ra’s.’

‘What if an alpha ordered you to do something?’

‘There are ways around it.’ Slade shrugged. ‘Deflect. Twist their words. Assume they’re talking to someone else. You’d be surprised how little most alphas think about their phrasing. “Get out” is an order, but “You should leave” is only a statement. Besides,’ he smirked, ‘what kind of suicidal alpha orders another alpha around? Especially one that looks like me.’ He touched his eyepatch, just for a second, and Dick might’ve believed he was scratching an itch if not for the tightness of his lips. ‘Ra’s taught me to resist alpha auras, and ignore anything but direct commands. If an alpha did command me—say, if they told me to get out—I’d act blasé and stroll off like it was my decision. No one ever questioned me.’

Dick stared, mouth agape. He couldn’t begin to imagine the self-control it would take to keep acting through an alpha’s order like that—even for an alpha that wasn’t your own. Catching Slade’s grin, he pressed his lips together. ‘Until now.’

Sighing, Slade set his fork down on his plate with a clink. ‘Until now.’

They met each other’s eyes over the table, and Dick repressed the distinctly beta urge to reach for Slade’s hand—or worse, get up and hug him. Alpha or not, he doubted Slade was a hugging kind of guy.

Slade pushed his chair back. ‘Does this ridiculous secret lair come with a shower?’

Shaking himself, Dick grinned and stood up. ‘Yeah. But I can show you something better.’

* * *

The grotto was always Dick’s favourite room in the safehouse.

It was especially his favourite now, as he watched Slade’s mouth fall open in shock when they stepped through the door into the wide, red stone cave.

Blue-green water filled almost the whole space, reflecting the stalactites hanging from the ceiling. Dick touched a switch by the door and across the cave, an artificial waterfall bubbled from the rocks and splashed into the water.

‘Pretty good, huh?’ Grinning, Dick rolled his harem pants up to his knees, perched on the rocks at the edge of the water, and dipped his feet in. The water was pleasantly cool.

Jason and Damian used to barrel in without hesitation, sending great waves crashing across the cave. Bruce would slide in, breast stroke a lap, and then paddle back to the edge to urge Selina deeper into the water. She and Tim would sit at the edge of the pool, splashing their arms and shoulders for ten minutes before they finally slipped in—or before Jason and Damian dragged them in, splashing and shrieking.

‘Honestly?’ Slade’s hands landed on Dick’s shoulders. ‘Now I think you’re just showing off.’

And he shoved Dick in the pool.

Dick belly-flopped with a yelp, arms flailing. But once he was in, he found purchase, flipped over underwater, and shot back up. He slapped his hand over the surface of the pool, spraying water back up towards Slade.

But Slade had already stepped back, out of range. He stood by the door, unbuttoning his collar. Dick watched him loosen his shirt down his chest, revealing muscles that still sent a hot jolt of panic up Dick’s spine. Then he tugged his shirt off over his head, and as he did, he turned and showed a flash of his bare back.

Coils of black smoke weaved up his skin, curling near his shoulders only to dissipate into nothing. It seemed to shift and ripple over his muscles as he moved.

Then Slade turned, tossing the shirt to the floor. Dick looked up.

Slade had noticed him staring. He was grinning.

Kicking off his boots, Slade unbuttoned his khakis and let them drop. Dick got a glimpse of black underwear and looked away with a flush. Slade strode across the rocks and slipped into the water without flinching. He cupped his hands and splashed water over his face, running it back through his hair with his fingers. His bandage soaked through but he didn’t seem to notice. He turned to Dick, single eye gleaming, and slipped under the water.

Dick backed up a step. Then he remembered he was in the water, fell back, and managed exactly half a backstroke before Slade surfaced in front of him, and Dick’s back hit the wall.

‘Enjoying the show?’

‘I was just—curious.’ Dick shrank against the rock.

Slade grinned. ‘Oh _really_?’

Dick’s face burned. ‘I meant your pack markings.’

‘Is that all?’ Slade stepped closer, water swishing around him. He lifted his hands, and rested them on the rock either side of Dick’s head. ‘I’m disappointed, Dick.’

Dick looked at Slade’s hand. At the bandage over his finger, soaked and probably in need of changing—they had antiseptic in the bathroom; it probably needed it. Then at Slade’s face.

He hovered close, but not touching. There was room for Dick to duck under his arm and swim away, if he wanted to.

Dick didn’t move. His heart raced.

Slade stepped closer.

Dick tipped his head up, watching Slade’s face, trying to remember how to breathe.

Slade’s leg brushed his thigh.

Knees buckling, Dick reached up just as Slade leaned down. He looped his arms around Slade’s neck, and melted into a crushing kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smuuuuuut! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Dick arched into Slade’s body, water swishing around them. Slade pressed in closer, stepping forward and crushing Dick against the cave wall.

He even _kissed_ like an alpha, slow and possessive, his tongue lapping into Dick’s mouth, his teeth nipping at Dick’s lips. Slade’s hands slipped under Dick’s wet tunic and flicked his nipples, and Dick groaned, tilting his head back until it touched the rock. Swirling his thumbs in hard, languid circles, Slade ducked and pressed his mouth to Dick’s bared throat.

Dick stiffened. Then he shuddered as Slade ran his tongue up the column of his throat before kissing his way back down, teeth scraping and nibbling but never biting down.

Slade’s hands slipped down Dick’s body and clasped his ass. Dick lifted his feet and curled his legs around Slade’s wait, leaning hard against the rock wall at his back. Fingers digging into Dick’s ass, Slade rocked his hips.

Heat rushed through Dick’s body, aching in his thighs and pulsing through his cock. He moaned, breath hitching as Slade nipped the base of his throat. Slade rocked again. Water rushed around them, and Dick felt the distinct hard edge of Slade’s cock brush his own. He shuddered.

‘I have … a bed …’ he panted.

Slade chuckled. The sound reverberated, low and thick, through Dick’s chest. ‘You sure you’ll make it that far?’

Dick thumped his back indignantly. ‘I want condoms. And lube.’

The cords in Slade’s throat tightened as he gritted his teeth, and Dick wondered if he was choking back a moan. Stepping back, Slade lowered Dick, who uncoiled his legs and stood unsteadily.

Slade squeezed his ass one last time, hard. ‘Go get them then. I want to fuck you in here.’

Dick breathed a shaky sigh, butted his head on Slade’s shoulder, then loosed his arms from around Slade’s neck and swam back up to the dry edge of the cave. He hauled himself out, his wet clothes sticking to his skin, and hurried through the door.

He dripped his way down the corridor to his bedroom and plunged into his dresser drawer. Until now, he’d only kept condoms here because it was tidier than masturbating into a tissue. He’d never thought he’d actually use them for their intended purpose, and brief panic seized him as he weighed the benefits of strawberry, ribbed, or extra-large (purchased as a joke and mostly used as water balloons at Tim’s last birthday—Bruce had despaired).

Finally, he grabbed one of each, and the bottle of lube—also strawberry—before stumbling back for the grotto. He opened the door, and froze.

Slade was no longer swimming. He sat on the edge of the pool, naked, one leg trailing in the water, the other curled up. He rested his elbow on his knee, his head in his fist; and his other hand was curled around his cock and moving in slow, lazy strokes.

His cock was perfect. Long and tapering slightly upwards, thickest at the base. Dick imagined it stretching him open, a little more with each inch, and his legs trembled.

Slade smirked. ‘Jesus, how much stamina do you _have_ , kid?’

Dick blinked, delirious. ‘H … huh?’

Slade nodded at Dick’s hand. ‘You planning to go three times in a row?’

Dick glanced down at the condoms, and flushed. _Oh._ ‘No,’ he said weakly. Then, in barely a croak, ‘Unless you … want … to?’

Rolling his eye, Slade lifted his head off his hand and waved Dick over. ‘Come here, idiot.’ But he was grinning, and there wasn’t an ounce of malice in his tone.

Dick shook himself, and managed to walk over without falling flat on his face. He knelt, and Slade took the condoms and lube from his unresisting hands and set them aside. Then Slade reached out, took Dick’s head in his hands, and drew him into a hard, open-mouthed kiss. Dick whimpered and leaned in closer, lapping into Slade’s mouth.

‘You fucked a beta before?’ Slade murmured.

‘Mm.’ Dick shivered as Slade’s hands slid down his body.

‘And alphas?’

Dick breathed, ‘Yeah.’ He hesitated. ‘Omegas, too.’

Slade’s fingers teased at the hem of his wet harem pants. ‘You little slut.’ There was a touch of laughter in his voice. He leaned forward and nipped at Dick’s throat. ‘And here you’re acting like a flustered virgin.’ His hands slid under Dick’s pants and curled around his cock; Dick shivered. ‘Queen Bee had you pegged in that whore costume. I should push your head down and make you swallow my cock like the whore you are.’

Dick wriggled and whined. God damn Slade and his fucking _voice_. How had he never noticed how hot that was before, the low, rumbling growl deep in Slade’s throat?

One of Slade’s hands dipped lower, curling around Dick’s balls, squeezing and tugging softly in time with his strokes over Dick’s cock.

‘Would you like that, you little beta whore? You want to choke on my cock?’

Shivers rippled up Dick’s spine. Fucking _hell_ , where had Slade learned to talk like that? Not just the words but the tone and the soft snarl … all alpha as fuck. But when he lifted his gaze and met Slade’s eye, the look was all question and concern. _Is this OK? Are you enjoying this?_ All beta.

Dick groaned. ‘Yes.’

_Yes to all of the above._

He whined as Slade withdrew his hands, and Slade laughed again. Then his fingers crawled into Dick’s hair, and drew his head down. Dick planted his elbows, licked his lips, and closed his mouth around the tip of Slade’s cock.

His skin was smooth and tasted clean, thanks to that dip in the pool. Slade gave Dick a moment to lick and lap and suck at the tip before tightening his hands in Dick’s hair and drawing him down. Dick held his breath and relaxed his jaw, taking Slade in until his touched the back of his throat. Then he stiffened, and tapped his fingers on Slade’s thigh.

Slade’s hands immediately relaxed in Dick’s hair, and Dick drew back, breathing again.

‘What’s the matter?’ Slade murmured. ‘You were begging a moment ago. Too much for you?’

Dick snorted at the taunt. They were playing that game, huh? Precome beaded on Slade’s cock; he looked up into Slade’s eye and licked it away, slow and deliberate. ‘Fuck you, I’ve swallowed bigger than this.’

An absolute fucking lie. The alpha he’d slept with was a woman; so was one of the betas. Most omegas didn’t want their cocks sucked.

Slade grinned. ‘Then you should handle this no problem.’

He gripped Dick’s hair again and pulled him down. And this time, when he brushed the back of Dick’s throat, Dick forced himself to relax further and take it. He tilted his head, stretching his lips around the thickness at the base of Slade’s cock, inviting him deeper. Slade slid easily into his throat. Dick hesitated at the tightness, the suddenly choking feeling that he couldn’t breathe around the mass filling his throat. But then he relaxed his tensed muscles, and swallowed.

Slade groaned. And then groaned again when Dick bobbed his head. His fingers loosened in Dick’s hair, allowing Dick to control the pace. He drew back when he needed a breath, only far enough to inhale, and then swallowed Slade down again.

‘ _Fuck,_ ’ Slade breathed, and all the snarl was gone from his voice. His hands fell away from Dick’s hair and he leaned back on the stone. His hips stuttered and Dick jerked back before he could choke.

Slade grumbled, and it was Dick’s turn to laugh. Leaning back like that, chin tilted, a flush spreading over his face and chest, Slade looked almost _submissive_. Or he would, if he weren’t such an enormous muscular bastard.

‘Just a second,’ Dick murmured.

He stood, tugged off his tunic and shimmied out of his harem pants. They landed with wet splats on the rock. He settled back between Slade’s legs, and reached for Slade’s cock with one hand, and his own with the other.

He moved in slow, squeezing strokes. Slade sighed beneath him, tipping his head back just a little further. Slade reached for the lube then leaned in, pressing kisses into the corner of Dick’s mouth and down his jaw. Popping the cap, he drizzled lube onto his fingers, then set the bottle aside and rubbed his hands together, warming the cool liquid. Dick breathed in the artificially sweet scent of strawberries.

Slade’s wet hands traced Dick’s thighs; squeezed his ass cheeks. A finger probed at Dick’s asshole and he tensed, gasping at the warm touch.

Slade swirled his finger around Dick’s asshole, not pressing in. ‘When you’re ready.’

Dick took a breath. His hands had stuttered to a stop on their cocks; he squeezed and stroked again, slow and easy. ‘I’m ready.’

As he exhaled, and his tense shoulders relaxed, Slade’s finger pessed into him.

‘Mmm.’ Dick closed his eyes. He rocked against Slade’s finger; it slid in so easy, the pressure next to nothing. Dick bowed his head, swallowing thickly. ‘More, please.’

Slade chuckled. ‘Greedy slut.’

Heat flushed through Dick’s body and his cock twitched as that alpha growl crept back into Slade’s voice. The second finger slipped in as easy as the first, but now Dick felt a pleasant, warm stretch as he rocked. A few seconds and Slade pressed in a third without asking, from his other hand, judging from the way his fingers moved and stretched in Dick’s body. Dick mewled and bent over, taking his hand off his cock to rest it on Slade’s hip for balance. He missed the touch immediately, but his legs were trembling and he felt weak and watery.

It burned, just a little, as Slade pumped his fingers. Dick writhed and let him keep going, waiting until the pain eased and all he could feel was that sweet, stretching fullness. His hand trembled around Slade’s cock, stroking in a jerky, uneven rhythm. Slade didn’t seem to mind. He grinned, sharp and wolfish, his eye flicking up and down Dick’s body.

‘You ready?’ he murmured.

Dick swallowed. ‘Yeah. God, yeah.’

Slade slipped his fingers out, and Dick whined. How strange it felt to be _empty_. But then Slade was reaching for the condoms and tearing open a packet—extra-large, and Dick might’ve laughed except he’d _seen_ Slade’s cock and yeah, fucking fair enough—and rolling the rubber down over his dick. As he reached for the lube again, Dick shuffled forwards, lifting his knees over Slade’s body to kneel either side of his hips. He waited to see if Slade would push him over, pin him down, alpha-style.

Instead, Slade slicked his cock with lube, then rested his wet hands on Dick’s hips and tugged him a little further up. Taking his cock in his hand, Slade positioned it over Dick’s ass, and dragged Dick down.

Dick was moaning before he was halfway. He stopped, gasping for air. He should’ve let Slade work him up further. This was _so fucking much_.

Slade rubbed wet circles around Dick’s hip. ‘Fuck, you look good up there. Mouth open and panting.’ He rolled his hips, just gently, pressing infinitesimally deeper before drawing back out; Dick whined. ‘Why the hell did I wait so long to get you on my cock?’ Another roll of the hips, and Dick sank deeper, his legs shaking. ‘Should’ve fucked you in the back of the Jeep the day I met you.’

Dick groaned, bowing his head. The day they met … he was pretty sure he’d have bitten Slade’s cock off if he dared. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember _why_. Because this felt so _good_ and why the fuck had he ever _not wanted_ this?

He finally, achingly, sank onto Slade’s hips, Slade’s cock buried fully inside him. Slade reached up and traced Dick’s lower lip with his thumb. Dick stilled. OK, yeah, this was amazing, but there were levels of filthy he wasn’t entirely willing to cross.

‘It’s OK,’ Slade said softly, ‘I didn’t put this one in you. Only fingers.’

Relief swept through Dick’s stomach. Exhaling, he parted his lips and let Slade press his thumb into his mouth. It was slick with lube, tooth-achingly sweet. Dick ran his tongue over the calloused skin, then puckered his lips and sucked, humming.

And then, while he was distracted, Slade thrust up into him.

Dick choked, crying out around the thumb still in his mouth. Slade withdrew his hands and gripped Dick’s hips instead, his wet hands slipping as he fucked up into Dick’s body. He moved slowly at first: long, rocking thrusts that made Dick tip his head back and gasp. Then, gradually, Slade sped up, until each thrust was a sharp, hot snap into Dick’s ass, and Dick tumbled forwards and bowed over Slade’s chest. He wailed, shocks chasing up his spine and shooting down his cock.

Slade bent his knee, drew back, shifted the angle of his hips, and snapped forward. His cock raked across Dick’s prostate. Dick shrieked, clawing at Slade’s shoulders. His belly tightened and he was so damn close—

But now Slade worked in shorter thrusts, drawing it out, and Dick almost sobbed.

‘You want … to come?’ Slade panted.

‘Fucking _yes_ ,’ Dick breathed. ‘You _bastard_.’

Slade laughed. But he drew back again, and thrust in hard, hitting that same angle. Once twice, again, again—and Dick screamed and scrabbled—and Slade gripped his cock and tugged, just once, at the same time as he thrust up against Dick’s prostate—

It felt like flames catching after so many sparks. It felt like bursting open when the pressure built too high. It felt like tearing in two.

It felt _fucking amazing_.

Dick lolled, half-blind and utterly dumb. His muscles went slack and he thought Slade was still fucking him but he wasn’t totally sure because the whole world had vanished into a pinpoint.

And then Slade snarled and dragged Dick down, his hips twitching as he came. Dick shivered, gasping. For an instant, all issues of cleanliness and safe sex aside, he kind of wished they hadn’t used a condom. He wanted to feel Slade fill him up.

Slade slumped back, and Dick settled down over him, crossing his arms over Slade’s chest and resting his head on them. He listened to the muted thumping of Slade’s heart and smiled.

Slade’s fingers trailed through his hair. ‘You OK?’

‘Mm.’ Dick drew a long breath. ‘That was good.’

A short huff of laughter; Slade’s chest rose and fell under Dick’s head. ‘Glad to hear it.’ He shifted. ‘Do you want to show me where the actual showers are now? Or …’ Slade reached for one of the remaining condom packets, waving it under Dick’s nose, ‘… are you ready for round two?’

Dick choked. He lifted his head. Slade was smirking, his grey eye gleaming with mischief.

Dick swatted the condom away with a snort. He set his head back down on Slade’s chest, and laughed.


	11. Chapter 11

The desert whipped away beneath them, little more than a streak of glowing gold. Above them, a burning blue sky stretched to each horizon. Dick triple-checked the flight map, subtly altered their course, and flicked autopilot back on before sitting back.

Slade glared from the co-pilot’s seat. ‘I still can’t believe you can fly a fucking jet.’

‘I was adopted by a billionaire,’ Dick snorted. ‘I can fly almost anything.’

Jets, helicopters, biplanes. Bruce loved his gadgets. Dick could also drive or sail almost anything on the market, from speedboats to tanks. His education had been unique, but thorough.

‘What’s the plan when we land?’

Slade shrugged, picking at the clean bandages around his finger. ‘We meet your pack in some fancy hotel by the beach. They hand over cash. I hand over you and the Lazarus water.’ A couple of days of full meals instead of survival bars, and the sharpness of the cheekbones and jawline had rounded out a little. He must’ve been scraping a survival in the desert, fleeing from Ra’s al Ghul, longer than Dick had realised. His single eye flicked up to meet Dick’s. ‘You go home happy and I get the fuck out of Bialya.’

Dick hesitated. He could’ve stayed in that safehouse with Slade for weeks. Swimming laps in the grotto; dozing on the sofa; curling up in his too-small bed with Slade, tangling up legs and fighting over the covers. But he also ached to be back in Gotham, surrounded by his pack. His family. ‘You get the fuck out of Bialya … to anywhere in particular?’

Lip twitching, Slade side-eyed him. ‘Why, are you planning to sell me out to Ra’s? Get your money back?’

‘No.’ Dick leaned back in his seat, trying to look casual but unable to resist a grin. ‘I was thinking you might like the USA. Gotham City, maybe.’

Slade was quiet for a long moment. ‘I might.’

His eye glittered, and he snorted but didn’t complain when Dick reached over to stop him picking his bandages off.

‘It’s nothing like Bialya. Gotham’s grey and cloudy and rains all the time,’ Dick said, a little too quickly. ‘There’s no sand, no sun, and no homicidal packs out to murder you.’ He hesitated. ‘Well, none out to murder you specifically, anyway.’

Slade nudged him with an elbow. ‘You had me at “nothing like Bialya”.’ He leaned over, and pressed a soft, dry kiss beneath Dick’s ear. ‘Besides, I want to fuck you in a bed we both fit in.’

Dick laughed. On the horizon, blue-green water glittered. Tiny white buildings gleamed like sugar cubes. Abu Zuhur.

Home, here they came.

* * *

They landed without fuss, Slade relaying Dick’s messages to the airport over the radio in thickly accented Bialyan. With no luggage, they waltzed through security before stepping out into the blazing hot streets.

The hotel was a mirror image of all the others. But Slade strode up to the door with confidence and pushed through. Dick hurried after, into a glittering marble foyer. Crystals tinkled on a chandelier overhead, and red carpets swept up the curving stairs. Dick smiled faintly. Yeah, this was definitely a hotel Bruce would’ve picked. Which meant it wasn’t Jason meeting them, or Damian. They’d have picked something convenient and secure. Nothing this opulent.

The receptionist, a small man with dark hair, eyed them warily. Or rather, he eyed _Slade_ warily. Dick didn’t blame him; it was hard not to feel a shock of panic when someone the size of Slade stepped into the room.

Taking a gamble, Dick strode up to the reception desk and spoke in English, ‘I’m Nightwing. Someone is here to meet me?’

The receptionist smiled broadly, eyes lighting in recognition of Dick’s pack name. ‘Yes, room one-oh-nine. Just down that corridor.’ His English was accented with lilting Bialyan, but otherwise crisp and perfect. ‘Would you like me to direct you, sir?’

‘That’s OK.’ Dick smiled. ‘We can find our way.’

Dick’s heart raced as he moved down the corridor, counting room by room on the odd-numbered side. One-oh-one. One-oh-three. One-oh-five. Slade paced behind him, as if Dick were not the alpha. Dick’s pulse filled his throat and tingled in his fingertips. He was going home. He was going _home_!

He stopped outside one-oh-nine. He took a deep breath.

Slade touched his shoulder. Dick glanced back, and Slade gave him a thin smile.

Letting his breath out, Dick reached up and knocked.

Soft, muffled footsteps thudded on the other side. The latch clicked.

The door creaked open, inch by inch, and then finally swung open fully.

Selina stood in the room, several paces back, her eyes wide and dark and panicked.

And right behind her …

Queen Bee held a knife to Selina’s throat, her other hand clasped over Selina’s mouth. Selina twisted her head sharply, jerking her chin out from under Queen Bee’s grip.

‘Dick!’ she gasped. ‘Run! It’s a trap!’

Queen Bee lifted the knife, and cracked the pommel into Selina’s temple. Dick barely felt the shriek leave his body. Selina’s head snapped to the side, and she sagged in Queen Bee’s grip. Blood roared in Dick’s ears. He lunged, but hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him back. Slade.

He stalked past Dick, teeth bared in a snarl.

Another figure stepped forward. The man who’d opened the door.

Ra’s al Ghul touched Slade’s face, almost tenderly. His nose was plastered with bandages, his eyes black with bruises.

‘ _Kneel_.’

And Slade hit the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't get round to posting this last night! Hope everyone had a fun and spooky Halloween. :)

‘No!’ Dick lurched back. His legs buckled. Ra’s hadn’t even looked at him, but that single word punched through him and dragged him down.

_Kneel._

His knees slammed into the tiled floor.

Slade, already kneeling in front of him, snarled and twisted at the sound, as if meaning to get up and reach for Dick. But his knees remained firmly planted on the floor.

Ra’s touched Slade’s head, his long fingers tangling in Slade’s hair. ‘Stay down, there’s a good boy.’

Slade turned with another snarl. He wrenched his head out of Ra’s’s grip, snapping his teeth as Ra’s withdrew his fingers. But still, his knees didn’t lift off the floor.

In the hotel room, Selina let out a low, slow growl. Her gaze met Dick’s her eyes flashing.

Gripping her tighter, Queen Bee shook her. ‘Be silent.’

Selina threw her head back.

Her skull crunched into Queen Bee’s nose, and Queen Bee staggered back with a scream. Blood poured down Queen Bee’s face, soaking into her silk dress. She slashed blindly at Selina, who darted back.

‘You bitch!’ Queen Bee’s voice was garbled.

Ra’s snapped, ‘Control her.’

Queen Bee let out a wet curse, aimed at either him or Selina. She slashed at Selina again, and Selina dodged and vanished out of Dick’s narrow view into the hotel room. By the sound of creaking springs, she’d leaped up onto the bed.

Dick pressed his palms into the floor. _Get up._ His stomach tightened. _You have to help her. Get up!_

How did Slade say he resisted? Deflect. Twist their words.

_The order wasn’t aimed at me._ Dick took a breath. _I don’t have to obey. Ra’s is not my alpha. It wasn’t aimed at me._

His muscles ached and strained and trembled. Sweat tricked down his back. In the hotel room, Queen Bee shrieked and staggered. Furniture crashed.

Dick’s knees lifted an inch off the tiles.

He lurched forward, with no form or finesse. Staggering past Slade, Dick lunged at Ra’s. His hands landed in Ra’s’s chest and Dick shoved him back. Ra’s only slipped back a step; then he caught Dick’s wrists.

‘ _Stop!_ ’

A hard iron rod shot down Dick’s spine. His muscles went limp.

Haziness slipped over his mind. He swam in fog, following the instinctual urge to just obey. Obey the alpha. His eyes slipped down to Slade, still crouched on the floor, struggling to lift himself.

_Fight._

Dick lifted his gaze.

_He didn’t say stop fighting._ Dick gritted his teeth. _He didn’t specify._

Deflect. Twist their words.

_He meant stop shoving._

Dick curled his fingers into fists.

_I can still kick him._

He tensed his leg, and snapped his knee up into Ra’s’s crotch.

Ra’s didn’t make a noise. He just folded. His hands slipped off Dick’s wrists, and his eyes widened to circles. He hadn’t expected his command to fall short. He hadn’t expected anyone—except maybe Slade—to resist him. His face went scarlet, and he took another step back, raising his arm. Dick tensed for the blow, ready to swipe it aside.

But before Ra’s could attack, Slade’s hand snapped out and caught his ankle.

Slade wrenched him down with a snarl. Ra’s hit the tiles and Slade gripped his robes in both fists, shredding the material as he fought to drag Ra’s closer. His face shone with sweat.

Ra’s kicked. His heel connected with Slade’s jaw, and Slade slumped back with an awful choking sound.

_Bruce, collapsed on the flagstones, blood pooling through the cracks …_

With a shriek, Dick swept in, reaching for Ra’s’s throat—

‘Nightwing, release him!’

The bite on Dick’s throat burned. His pack markings flared down his back.

His arms fell open before he could think. Ra’s shoved Dick away and swept to his feet, red-faced and snarling. Dick pushed himself up, tensing to strike again.

‘Nightwing!’ The same voice, muffled and wet. ‘Get down!’

Dick’s knees buckled a second time.

He twisted, staring back over his shoulder. Selina was slumped on the carpet. Queen Bee stood over her, wiping her bloody face with the bedsheets. A stab went through Dick’s heart. _No._

He stared at Selina, trembling. No blood. He couldn’t see any blood. What had Queen Bee _done_?

 _Don’t be dead._ His throat tightened. _Not you and Bruce. Please._

‘That’s better.’ Queen Bee swallowed thickly. She stepped closer to Dick, and a pit opened in his stomach. ‘You are not to touch me or Ra’s again.’

The order settled on his shoulders like a weight.

She was still his alpha.

Of course she was. How could he have been so stupid? Her bite was still scarring on his throat. Dick scrunched his eyes closed, but he couldn’t shake the order off.

‘This,’ Ra’s said, brushing his dishevelled robes down imperiously, ‘is why I suggested bringing betas.’

Queen Bee shot him a withering glance. ‘Just have your dog hand over the Lazarus water so we can leave.’

Dick strained. ‘No!’

_Bruce._

Bruce collapsed on the flagstones, Bruce bleeding out, Bruce dying—

Bruce slipping through his fingers a second time.

On the floor, Slade groaned. He lay boneless, blinking dazedly. Even as Ra’s approached, he only managed a feeble swipe at Ra’s’s leg.

‘Lie still, Deathstroke,’ Ra’s snapped.

Slade grunted. His shoulders tensed, as if automatically fighting the order. Then he slumped.

‘There.’ Ra’s turned to Queen Bee, holding his hand out. ‘I am not in the habit of retaining disloyal betas. It will be easier to search his corpse.’

‘No!’ Dick reached up weakly. But he couldn’t touch Ra’s. His hand fell short, fingers trembling.

Queen Bee handed Ra’s the knife.

Tremors raced through Dick’s body as he fought. Fought to get up. Fought to attack.

His body gave out, and he slumped.

‘Slade …’

A soft touch on his arm. Dick tilted his head.

Selina stared back at him, her eyes narrow. ‘Get up,’ she whispered.

Dick shuddered. ‘Can’t.’

Across the room, Ra’s rolled up his sleeve. Queen Bee hovered at his elbow.

‘Can’t?’

Dick swallowed. ‘She bit me. She’s my alpha.’

‘Nightwing.’ Selina’s voice was paper-thin. ‘You’re not hers. You’re in _my_ pack. _My_ mate gave you those markings.’

As if in reaction, Dick’s markings warmed. His back prickled. It felt as though the feathers were shifting, readying to lift him in flight. His bones warmed, a feeling washing over him that he barely remembered. The feeling of being safe, of being home, of being _with his pack_.

Selina gripped Dick’s hand.

She grinned.

‘Let’s kick this bitch’s ass.’

Selina swept to her feet, dragging Dick up along with her. His muscles screamed in protest, but Selina’s grip was iron hard and unrelenting. Dick’s chest tightened and he wheezed, battling not to fold.

_Stay down._

_You are not to touch me or Ra’s again._

Well. He didn’t have to touch them.

Dick snatched up the bedside lamp, and launched it at the back of Queen Bee’s head.

If Queen Bee screamed, Dick didn’t hear it over the crash of shattering porcelain. One moment, Queen Bee was standing, and the next she was sprawled on the tiles, and the weight crushing Dick lifted away.

_Dead._

An instinctive stab of panic shot through his chest. A small, animal part of Dick’s brain screamed in horror. _Alpha’s dead, alpha’s dead!_

But he’d already felt it once before. And back then, it was so, so much worse.

This time, he shook it off.

He lunged at Ra’s before he could consider what he’d done. Ra’s turned to face him, and in the instant before Dick reached him—

He bent down, and plunged the knife into Slade’s chest.


	13. Chapter 13

Dick screamed. He fell on Ra’s like a sack of rocks, kicking and pummelling, not feeling the blows that rained back on him. There were voices and shouting and bellowing, and then his hands were around Ra’s’s throat, and he was squeezing.

Ra’s slammed a fist into the side of Dick’s head. The room spun and Dick’s grip slackened as he sagged. Selina swept in, her foot snapping out in a kick. Ra’s rolled aside and staggered back, into the hotel room.

A shadow loomed over him. Slowly, Ra’s turned.

Shoulders heaving with the effort of every breath, legs trembling to fight Ra’s’s orders, Slade glared down with his single gleaming grey eye. Blood soaked through his shirt. Soaked his hands. Soaked the knife now clenched in his fist.

The knife that he slashed across Ra’s’s throat.

Ra’s folded like wet paper.

He must’ve made a noise as he hit the tiles, but Dick didn’t hear it. He stared up at Slade, whose eye now drifted, unfocused, as if searching for his missing target. Groaning, he leaned into the wall, his face twisting in pain.

Then he collapsed beside Ra’s.

‘Slade!’ Dick lurched toward him, stumbling over Ra’s to fall on his knees at Slade’s side. ‘Shit, _shit_! Slade!’

Slade didn’t answer. His eye was still open, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Dick choked. ‘No!’ His throat tightened, tears burning in his eyes.

He was back in Nanda Parbat. He was watching Bruce’s blood drain through the cracks in the flagstones.

‘Dick …’ Selina’s hand rested between his shoulder blades. ‘I’m sorry.’

Dick shook himself. He wasn’t in Nanda Parbat. He wasn’t looking at Bruce.

And Slade didn’t have to die.

Gasping, he fumbled with Slade’s breast pocket. The button fought him, until finally he tore the damn thing clean off.

Selina gripped his shoulder. ‘Dick—’

Dick tugged out the bottle. The liquid inside swirled, green and bright and burning. His fingers slipped on the stopper; finally he brought it up to his mouth and yanked it out with his teeth.

For less than a second, he stared at the open bottle.

_Bruce._

His jaw tightened.

_I’m sorry, Alpha._

‘Come on.’ He parted Slade’s lips with shaking fingers. ‘Come on, you bastard.’

He tipped the Lazarus water into Slade’s mouth.

The bottle emptied too quickly, and Slade didn’t move. Dick sat back, holding his breath. His hands trembled.

Selina crouched beside him. ‘Was that … ?’

Dick nodded. He didn’t take his eyes off Slade’s face.

Slade didn’t move. And didn’t move. And didn’t move.

Dick swallowed back a sob. ‘Come on. Come _on._ ’

With a jerk, Slade jolted upright. He coughed, hacking and retching, blood splattering his lips. Then he groaned, reaching up blindly. Dick gripped his arms.

‘I’ve got you.’ A sob burst out of his chest. ‘I’ve got you.’

Slade wheezed. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, then touched his chest, as if confused to find the stickiness of blood spreading over his clothes. Finally, he tilted his head, and stared at Dick. ‘What the _fuck_ did you do?’

Dick wasn’t sure if the strangled noise he made was a laugh or a sob. He held up the little bottle. ‘Turns out this one wasn’t coloured water.’

Slade sagged. His face twisted in a grimace, as if he could still taste it, or feel it working through him. Fixing all the small cuts and bruises and pains. ‘It sure as hell wasn’t.’

‘You stole Lazarus water from Ra’s al Ghul?’ Selina glanced at Ra’s’s body. She winced. ‘No wonder he wanted you dead.’ She leaned down, and hoisted Dick up. ‘C’mon.’

Dick staggered to his feet and offered his hand to Slade. Together, they staggered out into the corridor. The receptionist’s face went sheet white as they stepped into the lobby. Selina dug in her pocket, drew up a neatly folded wad of bank notes, and dropped them on the desk. They vanished into the receptionist’s hand, and the receptionist vanished into a room marked Staff Only, presumably to count the cash, smoke a cigarette, and work out how much therapy he could now afford.

Everything from stepping out the door to climbing the stairs to Bruce’s private jet was a blur. Dick slumped in a plush armchair, sipping soda and trying to stop his hands shaking, while Selina flew and made frantic calls in the cockpit. He turned the empty bottle of Lazarus water over and over in one hand.

_Bruce._

He did the right thing. He _knew_ he did.

He did what Bruce would have done.

As the engine roared to life, Slade touched his bloody chest again. ‘Should’ve grabbed a change of clothes in the airport.’

‘There’s clothes in there.’ Dick nodded to a cupboard near the cockpit. He pushed himself to his feet, even as Selina turned the plane round and headed for the runway.

Slade grunted in thanks and, rather than reach for the cupboard, stepped in the small bathroom to wash. Setting the empty bottle of Lazarus water in his seat, Dick dug through the cupboards and pulled out some clothes Bruce always kept aboard for just in case. Mostly suits and shiny black shoes. Dick found a loose t-shirt and jogging bottoms—work-out clothes—buried underneath the rest. He set them on the side for Slade to take.

A hollow ache filled Dick’s chest. He looked at the empty glass bottle, resting in his plush seat.

‘You OK?’

Dick flinched. He hadn’t even heard Slade come out the bathroom, much less pull on Bruce’s clothes. They were a little tight on him, straining over the shoulders and chest. And Dick used to think Bruce was big.

‘You’re looking a little shellshocked there, kid.’ Slade touched his shoulder. ‘Not that you don’t have a right to.’

Dick opened his mouth, and tried to say something sensible and relevant, but instead what came out was, ‘Bruce hated killing.’

Slade raised his eyebrows. ‘What, Ra’s?’ He snorted. ‘His little betas won’t leave him there long. He’ll be back in the Lazarus Pit by sundown.’ He snorted. ‘Hell, they’ll probably chuck Queen Bee in, too. Don’t worry about it.’

Tears burned Dick’s eyes. He felt suddenly feeble, and hot with embarrassment, and so he simply stepped forward, wound his arms around Slade’s body, and buried his face in Slade’s chest. ‘I’m so fucking glad you’re alive.’

Slade didn’t move for a moment, as if startled. Then his arms fell around Dick’s shoulders. His chin rested on top of Dick’s head, and a second later he said, ‘Ah.’ He must’ve seen the vial of Lazarus water on Dick’s seat. ‘You wanted that for your alpha, huh?’

Dick shook his head, although a sob threatened to burst out of him. ‘I don’t regret it.’

‘Good.’ Slade clapped his shoulder and stepped back. ‘You don’t have to.’

Dick stared up at him, bewildered. ‘What … ?’

Rolling his eye, Slade reached for his bloody clothes on the side. ‘I told you: always have a contingency, and never show all your cards.’ He dug into a trouser pocket, and pulled out a gleaming vial. ‘You really thought I’d risk my life running from Ra’s with only _one_ bottle of Lazarus water?’

Dick stared. And Slade grinned.

The plane rumbled, and roared along the runway.

And Dick’s entire body went light.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Sunday, another chapter I forgot to update. 😅 Forgive me!
> 
> I'm currently NaNoWriMo-ing some original fiction (GULP!), but at Christmas I hope to come back and polish off my Bad Things Happen Bingo slots. So if anyone is still waiting on theirs, it's coming, I promise!
> 
> And of course, thank you everyone for reading. I swear, I have the nicest inbox in the world and you never fail to make me smile. ❤️

Dick woke up to the sound of rain drumming on the windows and, not for the first time, wondered where he was.

It never rained in Bialya, and his little white cell had no windows. He rarely heard anything through the locked door, until the bolt slid aside for the omegas to bring him food. Or to drag him out to Queen Bee again.

He rubbed his neck anxiously, and realised the bite didn’t hurt anymore. His skin was soft, ridged with healed scars. As he ran his fingers over them, heavy blankets shifted over his shoulder. Something warm and hard moved beside him.

He opened his eyes blearily, and stared into Slade’s naked chest.

Just like every morning, it all rushed back with equal parts horror and warmth. The chains and the desert and Ra’s and Slade’s blood seeping into his shirt—

Dick shuddered, clenching his jaw to keep down a whimper.

Slade noticed anyway. His arm, slung over Dick’s waist, hooked tighter, drawing him into a crushing hug. Slade’s mouth pressed into Dick’s hair. ‘You’re all right.’

Loosening his jaw, Dick swallowed. ‘I know.’

Slade’s hand shifted up and down Dick’s back, slow and lazy. Dick shivered, his pack markings tingling under Slade’s touch. Then Slade slid his hand up the back of Dick’s neck and into his hair.

‘We can still postpone. You don’t have to do this today.’

_Today._ Dick took a breath. ‘Are you backing out?’

Slade snorted. ‘I’m not afraid of a little nip, kid.’

Dick nodded. ‘Then neither am I.’

He leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Slade’s clavicle, and then wiggled his arm up in front of his face to check his watch. 6:58AM. The others wouldn’t be up for hours yet—unless Tim hadn’t gone to bed yet. The Bat’s pack were infamous night owls.

Dick didn’t feel like going back to sleep. But he didn’t feel much like crawling to the kitchen for coffee yet. The air was cool outside the bed, but it was warm in the blankets, and Slade was close and smelled like that fancy soap Alfred always put in the bathrooms. Dick had forgotten that smell. It smelled of home.

He leaned in, pressing his face closer to Slade’s neck, and drew a breath. Slade’s fingers scratched the short hairs at the back of Dick’s neck. Humming in appreciation, Dick touched his lips to Slade’s skin, then slid out his tongue and lapped into the divot in Slade’s clavicle.

Slade stiffened, then let out a slow, warm breath over the top of Dick’s head. His leg slid up the outside of Dick’s, hooking over his knee. ‘Good morning to you, too.’

Dick chuckled, licked his palm, and slid it down into Slade’s boxers.

Groaning softly, Slade slipped his hand just a little higher into Dick’s hair, and twisted the strands around his fingers. Dick worked in gentle, lazy strokes, floating in the cosiness of their bodies tangled together. The ache in his own body was a pleasant hum. A promise, as Slade grew hard under his hand.

‘Want me to fuck you?’ Slade breathed.

‘Mmm.’ Dick drew a long, slow lick up Slade’s throat. ‘Yeah. Go slow.’

Slade chuckled. ‘No promises.’

He rolled up over Dick, and the blankets fell away. Dick grumbled at the flood of cold air, and then gasped at the warmth of Slade’s palm on his crotch. Slade’s fingers curled in Dick’s boxers, and Dick glanced down, lifting his hips to let Slade tug them off. Slade looked warm and perfect in the early morning haze, the light muted through the curtains. His cock hung out his boxers, stretching the elastic taut. And Dick would’ve reached down and curled his fingers around it again, maybe considered pulling those boxers off with his teeth, if Slade hadn’t then bent down and swallowed Dick’s cock in his mouth.

Dick threw his head back into the pillows with a barely smothered cry. Thank fuck the walls were so thick in Wayne Manor. Slade lapped at the underside of his cock, his wet lips tight and hot as they glided down the shaft. Dick pressed his fist against his mouth to stifle a moan. Slade was entirely too fucking good at this. He drew back, tongue swirling over the head of Dick’s cock, before he ducked back in again. Dick writhed.

When Slade drew back again, it was to reach for the lube in Dick’s bedside table. As he ducked to lap and suck at Dick’s cock once more, Dick heard the pop of the bottle opening, and then the warm, wet press of fingers against his asshole. He spread his knees, arching his back as two fingers pressed in. One was never enough anymore.

Slade pumped into him steadily, working in tandem with his mouth around Dick’s cock. He _was_ going slower than usual, to his credit, but still faster than the lazy pace Dick had set. Dick wriggled, yearning for Slade’s fingers to stretch more, to press deeper. Slade scissored his fingers and Dick whined, and then bit down hard on his knuckles to keep from whining louder when Slade pressed a third, then fourth, finger steadily in.

It was so much easier now. Almost no discomfort at all. Dick guessed that was what came from fucking each other senseless every night for month. Every night since they first arrived in Gotham and tumbled into this bed.

When Slade drew back again, he reached for a condom. Standing, he shucked his boxers down before sliding back onto the bed and tearing the packet open. Dick vaguely wished Slade could knot him. It wouldn’t do anything—he wasn’t an omega any more than Slade was an alpha—but the sensation of being locked together … he shivered.

Slade noticed. He hesitated, the condom just rolled on. Lube in hand, he gave Dick a wary glance. ‘Ready?’

‘Yeah,’ Dick breathed. At Slade’s narrowed eye, he added, ‘Just … imagining what it would be like if you knotted me.’

Slade raised his eyebrows. ‘You’d like that, huh?’ He shifted forwards on his knees, lifted Dick’s hips, and positioned his cock over Dick’s already lube-slicked entrance.

‘Yeah—hurrgghg—’ Dick threw his head back at the tight, hot stretch of Slade pressing into him. He panted, waiting until Slade’s hips came flush against his legs. He opened his mouth to speak, whimpered, bit his lip, and tried again. ‘Wanna be trapped on your cock.’

Slade groaned, his head dropping over Dick’s. ‘Fuck, Dick.’ He licked his lips, then rolled his hips experimentally. Dick let out a long, soft noise of pleasure. ‘Careful what you wish for. There are toys for that shit, you know?’

Dick panted, rocking up as Slade ground down into him. ‘I fucking hope so.’ He kept up as Slade moved faster, forgetting his request to go slow. Each thrust sent hot, white arcs of electricity shooting up his spine. He hooked his legs around Slade’s hips and arched his back. Slade’s cock glided perfectly over his prostate and Dick had to choke back a full-on scream.

‘Not—ah!—not gonna last long if you keep— _ahh!_ —hitting me like that.’

‘Glad to hear it.’ Slade adjusted his grip on Dick’s hips, drew his cock back and almost out, and thrust back in hard.

Dick jerked, yelping, and then Slade was fucking him full throttle, and it was all Dick could do to bite down on his hand and keep the moans and whimpers to a minimum.

‘Want me to fill you up, Dick?’ Slade growled. ‘Want to play my little omega bitch?’

Dick couldn’t answer. Tears caught in his lashes. He was climbing, and so close to the peak, his whole body shaking.

‘Or …’ despite his gasping, a wicked tone leaked into Slade’s voice, ‘… were you hoping to fuck me for once? Don’t think I can whimper as pretty as you, but maybe that’d get you off. Trying to wring a noise out of me while I struggle on your knot—’

‘ _Fuck!_ ’

Dick came so suddenly it felt like a punch to the gut. He curled over, rocking into himself, curling a hand around his pulsing cock to pull him through the aftershocks. Slade shuddered over the top of him; his fingers dug into Dick’s ass and his thrusts became sharper, shallower. Dick whined and writhed, come leaking from his cock in feeble trails as his orgasm dragged long enough to hurt. Then Slade buried himself deep in Dick’s ass, his hips spasming, his arms trembling as he came.

He lowered his head, pressed a sloppy kiss to the corner of Dick’s mouth, and then dropped his face into the pillow beside Dick’s head. Dick sagged back, dazed.

‘Jesus … fucking Christ … Slade.’

Slade groaned into the pillow.

‘We’ve gotta … we’re gonna do that … stuff …’ Dick mumbled. ‘With the toys.’

Slade tilted his head just enough to mumble, ‘Which part?’

‘Yes.’ Dick blinked. ‘All of it.’

Laughing, Slade sank down onto Dick’s body. His weight was crushing, his skin hot and damp. His arms curled under Dick’s neck.

‘Ugh, don’t,’ Dick groaned. ‘I’m all wet. We should shower.’

‘Dick,’ Slade hummed pleasantly, ‘shut the fuck up.’

* * *

Much later, both smelling of fresh soap from their morning showers, they sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee when Bruce walked in.

_Bruce._

Dick looked up with wide eyes, hands cupped around his mug.

‘Morning.’ Bruce yawned, reaching for the coffee pot. ‘This fresh?’

‘Yeah.’ Dick tried not to stare. It’d be a long time before he wanted to stop staring. Because Bruce was there, standing in front of him, wrapped in a fluffy black dressing gown with his hair dishevelled and his eyes sleepy but otherwise safe and healthy and _alive_. ‘Alfred made banana muffins, too.’

Bruce hummed in appreciation, reaching for the tray on the side. As he stepped closer, his alpha aura washed over Dick; not oily and slick or choking like Ra’s on Queen Bee’s, but warm and comfortable as the smell of freshly baked bread. Slade, however, stiffened, his single eye narrowing. Dick touched his arm and he relaxed, letting out a slow breath.

Slade wasn’t used to it yet—being around an alpha like Bruce, instead of Ra’s.

As Bruce settled at the breakfast bar, Alfred stepped back inside carrying two empty coffee mugs on a silver tray. ‘Ah, Master Bruce. You enjoyed your lie-in, I trust?’

Chuckling, Bruce swallowed his mouthful of muffin and nudged Dick’s arm, ‘That’s Alfred talk for “You finally got up, you lazy bastard”.’

‘I would never be so uncouth.’ Alfred smiled, loading mugs into the dishwasher. ‘However, the rest of the pack is awake and … rather restless, I believe. Today is, after all, a big day.’ He eyed Dick and Slade meaningfully.

He wasn’t wrong. Jason and Damian had been in the gym all day, sparring with increasingly deadly weapons. Selina was allegedly supervising, although the last time Dick popped his head in, she’d been hitting a punching bag with her back to them. Tim had gone out for a morning run and not yet returned, although Dick saw him occasionally jogging past the kitchen windows and peering inside, waiting for evidence they were about to begin.

Bruce stretched his arms across the table, looking at Dick and Slade in turn. ‘You both still up for it?’

‘Course I am,’ Dick said.

Slade snorted. ‘If you think your teeth are sharp enough, dead man.’

Bruce gave him a thin smile. ‘Well, all right. Happy to have you back, Dick. And Slade … don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.’ His smile turned wicked and, to Dick’s surprise, Slade swatted at him. Bruce leaned back, laughing. He stuffed two more bites of banana muffin in his mouth, then stood up, gulping loudly. ‘I’ll get dressed. Don’t want to initiate two new pack members in my jammies.’

* * *

In spite of Dick’s confidence, his heart hammered as Alfred laid towels down on the living room floor. Jason pushed the coffee table out of accidental kicking range.

‘What’re you thinking, Dickie?’ He slung an arm around Dick’s neck and scrubbed a fist in Dick’s hair. ‘Gonna squeal like a little girl this time?’

Dick snorted. ‘If I remember, you were the one who bitched for a week about how much it hurt.’

Sitting rigid on the sofa beside Damian, Slade’s eye flicked to Jason, so narrow it was almost a slit.

Jason pushed Dick away. ‘Ah, he bit me harder than you.’

‘That’s because you struggled.’ The living room door creaked open and Bruce stepped in, dressed in jeans and a knitted sweater, looking for all the world as if he were about to light a cosy fire and toast marshmallows rather than chew two people’s throats out.

He cast an appraising eye around the room: Tim and Selina curled up in separate armchairs, Alfred pointlessly smoothing out creases in the towels, Jason spluttering indignantly while Dick sniggered, Slade and Damian sitting stiffly beside one another.

‘All right, we’re all here. I’ve brushed my teeth.’ Bruce rolled up his sleeves. ‘Let’s go.’

Dick touched Slade’s knee, then stepped forward. ‘Ready.’

‘Standing up?’

Dick shrugged. ‘Sure.’

His pulse thrummed. Bruce stepped closer, and Dick reached back and tugged his t-shirt off over his head. It all felt so ceremonial. So different to that awkward first bite, when Bruce wasn’t really sure what he was doing, or the snap from Queen Bee while Dick struggled and snarled. Bruce stood up in front of Dick and gripped his arms.

And his alpha aura flooded out like sunlight bursting through cloudy skies.

Dick’s legs went weak. He had a moment to think that shit, standing up was probably a terrible idea, before Bruce leaned in and bit down on his throat.

His knees sagged before Bruce even broke the skin. Bruce gripped him harder. His teeth sank in deeper. It was bruising, and blunt, and then, suddenly, a red-hot, sharp sting—

The floor sank away underneath him. Dick floated, gasping for air, gripping Bruce’s sweater in both hands because Bruce was the only tether left in a wide, white fog of nothing. The feathers down his back fluttered and burned, and then they were breaking out of his skin, rising up into tremendous blue wings. He vaguely registered Bruce lowering him to the floor, curling over him, biting just that bit harder. Then absolute calm washed over him, and Dick sagged back and closed his eyes and let himself float away.

When he came to, it wasn’t Bruce leaning over him, but Slade. His grey eye was creased, his lips a thin, hard line. Dick reached up for his hand. Slade gripped his wrist, and tugged Dick upright.

Sharp pain seared through his neck. Dick flinched. ‘Agh …’ He touched his neck, and found bandages already there. Across the room, Alfred was tidying the first aid kit.

Dick slid his hand over his shoulders. No wings. Just his pack markings, a little warm under his fingers.

At Slade’s continued stare, Dick smiled weakly. ‘I’m fine. Stop panicking.’

‘I am not panicking.’ Slade rolled his eye.

‘Good.’ Dick pushed his arm. ‘Your turn.’

Slade looked over his shoulder. Behind him sat Bruce, elbows resting on his knees, the blood cleaned up from around his face.

‘If you’re ready.’ Bruce shrugged.

Slade’s jaw shifted as he ground his teeth. ‘Fine.’

‘Good.’ Dick smiled. ‘Good. Great. I’m just gonna … lie down … a little bit.’

As he lay back on the towel, he heard Jason snigger, ‘Dickiebird’s high as a kite.’

Dick gave him the finger, or at least waved the finger in approximately the direction he thought Jason was probably in. The truth was, he _was_ high. The room felt soft and safe. He felt mellow and heavy, not in an aching way but in a restful way.

He turned his head and watched Slade lie back, glaring daggers at Bruce as though daring him to touch a single molecule of skin more than necessary. He hadn’t taken his shirt off. Just unbuttoned the collar and tugged it aside.

Dick reached out and touched Slade’s hand. Slade turned his head, then sighed and rolled up onto his side, gripping Dick’s hand as though he was doing him a favour. Dick wanted to laugh.

Bruce didn’t grip Slade’s arms. He didn’t even adjust Slade’s collar. Another wave of alpha aura washed through the room, powerful enough to make Dick melt into the floor. Then Bruce leaned forward, and bit down.

Slade bared his teeth. For a moment, he looked as if he’d lunge to his feet and kick Bruce in the head. But Dick gripped his hand, and Slade hissed in a breath—

And released it.

The creases smoothed around his eye. The tightness eased around his mouth. His fingers loosened around Dick’s, and Slade slumped into the floor, blinking and dazed, as blood welled around Bruce’s teeth.

Bruce didn’t hold for as long as he had with Dick. Only long enough to be sure Slade had truly gone slack. Then he withdrew, moving carefully, not stirring a hair. Alfred stepped forward a moment later, and Slade didn’t flinch at the antiseptic spray, or at the press of the wound dressing.

When he finally did stir, he shook himself, blinked and Dick, and frowned.

And an entirely new warmth flooded through Dick’s body. Slade must’ve felt it too; he knitted his brow, eyes opening wide.

‘Pack bond,’ Dick whispered.

Slade grunted, although he still looked a little startled. Maybe it’d felt different, in Ra’s al Ghul’s pack. He gave Dick’s hand another squeeze, and then pushed himself up.

‘Looks like my teeth were sharp enough.’ Bruce grinned. ‘Welcome to the pack.’

‘Don’t look too smug.’ Slade ran a hand over his face. ‘I killed my last alpha.’

Bruce snorted. He stood up, shaking his head. ‘All right, let’s give these two time to recover in peace.’

The others shuffled out. Jason gave Dick a celebratory thump on the arm; Damian a terse nod. Tim and Selina each hugged him before slipping out, and Selina even braved touching Slade’s hand, if only for a moment. He shot her a glare like fire, which she returned with an unperturbed smile.

Alfred closed the first aid kit with a snap. ‘We are most glad to have you back, Master Dick.’ He smiled warmly, then nodded at Slade. ‘Welcome to the pack.’ He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. ‘I was the beta to Master Wayne’s father. I have been in this pack for a long time, and we protect our own. I suggest you treat this welcome as the honour it is.’

Nodding briskly, Alfred turned on his heel and stepped out the room.

Slade frowned. ‘Was I just threatened by the butler?’

‘You were threatened by my lead beta.’ Chuckling, Bruce closed the door. ‘He’s very protective. But I don’t think he needs to be.’ He folded his arms. ‘You could’ve shoved me off, you know, Slade? I wouldn’t have stopped you.’

Slade scoffed. ‘You couldn’t have if you wanted to.’

‘But you don’t like alphas.’ Bruce raised his eyebrows, apparently awaiting protest. Slade didn’t give any. ‘Which tells me you care for Dick more than you dislike me. Enough to join his pack, in fact.’

Slade’s stare was cold and hard as stone. But Dick could feel something else pouring off him. Something like the glare of the sun off white sand. Like the cool water of a grotto in a burning desert. Perhaps it was the fresh bite on his throat, the still-raw pack bond tugging in his heart, but he wondered if sometimes betas had an aura, too. Less like a wave, and more like a shield

Bruce reached as if to pat Slade’s arm, but apparently thought the better of it. He stepped back, reaching for the door. ‘Take good care of my son, Slade.’ His lips twitched. ‘That’s an order.’

He stepped out the room and the door closed behind him. In a few minutes, Dick got up and pulled his shirt back on, but he was still too dazed and fuzzy to hit the gym or dig through the library for a good mystery. Instead, he curled on the sofa with Slade and dozed. Mindless action movies flickered on the TV. Then the news. Then the weather. Dick let them all slide together, curling up against Slade’s chest. Occasionally, he touched the edges of the bandage at his throat. The mark that locked him into his pack. His family.

Slade’s arm curled around his chest, and Dick closed his eyes and dreamed.


End file.
